Stormworld
by Wayward
Summary: Starscream finally gets what he's been asking for, but will he survive it?.. ( Mostly original characters, just to warn you )
1. Receive Thy New Possessor

**Receive Thy New Possessor**

_Farewell, happy fields,  
Where joy for ever dwells!  Hail, horrors! hail,  
Infernal world!  and thou, profoundest Hell,  
Receive thy new possessor--…_

* * *

          "'Promotion'!?" roared Megatron.  "You're Second-In-Command of the whole blasted Empire, and you're _not_ going to be first!"

          Sometimes, Starscream would flinch, but not today.  He'd worked himself into too foul a temper already to give ground.  "That means nothing!  For millennia I have been the Air Commander!  I'm _always_ second to you!"

          "And you'll be first over my deactivated body," Megatron reminded him.  "What do you _want_?"

          "Want?  Want?" mocked Starscream.  "I want to cast my own shadow rather than living in yours.  I might be second in the Empire, but what power do I have?  You never let me have a true command position."

          "Because you'd bungle it!"

          Starscream's optics flashed.  "Oh, I would, would I?  You've just been… _coddling_ me all these years, have you?  _You never gave me a chance!_  Even the wretched Insecticons have their own world!"  The Seeker turned away, but it was only to pace.  "Challenge me, Megatron.  Lend me some warriors and _I will prove_ that I can lead!  Set any task you like."  Starscream stopped and looked over his shoulder.  "Unless, of course, you're scared that I might succeed?.."

          The Decepticon High Commander leaned back in his chair.  "I accept.  I'll give you your people and a world.  If you can conquer it, it's yours."

          He wasn't so worked up that he was oblivious.  "You answered quickly, Megatron.  You have a planet in mind?"

          "A-JX-522-D."

_          "Stormworld?"_

* * *

          "I'm reasonably sure that Megatron isn't trying to kill you."

          "Ha!"

          Dreadmoon sighed, listening to Starscream pace behind him as he worked.  "If he wanted you destroyed, he'd have done it himself long ago," he said reasonably, not adding, _And if you really wanted him dead, you'd have done the same._  But he stayed quiet.  Dreadmoon was learning which topics weren't safe to bring up with Starscream.

          "Oh, no, he can be subtle when he wants to be," said Starscream bitterly.  "He just usually doesn't bother.  And he _likes_ irony."

          The Seeker had relayed his conversation with Megatron pretty much to the letter, and Dreadmoon could see exactly where Starscream had stuck his foot in it: Starscream expected to be handed an inhabited world, to swoop in and conquer, to quell a rebellion… something that involved showing off his military prowess.  Megatron turned that on its ear and handed him an extremely dangerous world where military skill would mean nothing and Starscream would have to use his scientific training: There was nothing to fight but the planet itself.  But Starscream had made the challenge, Megatron had accepted it, and there was no way out of it now.  And, again, best not to say it.

          Starscream broke the silence after a few minutes.  "What are you working on, anyway?"

          "Instructions to my second.  He'll be taking the watchtower when we leave."

          The pronoun wasn't lost on Starscream.  He stopped pacing.  "No.  I dug myself into this hole; I'm not pulling you in with me."

          "You didn't pull; I signed up as soon as I heard about it – before you even showed up here today," replied Dreadmoon, still typing.  "And I'm not letting you argue me out of it."

          "You're insane!"  There was more he could say, but it was nothing he wanted to admit to.  "You're just a Monitor!"

          This time, Dreadmoon did turn, swivelling his chair to look at the Seeker.  "Correction: I was a _Sector_ Monitor."

          An outsider wouldn't understand the emphasis.  There were certain rules concerning rank in the Decepticon hierarchy, certain classes of citizen.  You could be a Decepticon and _not_ part of the army, you could live quite comfortably, but you wouldn't get very far.  If you wanted a better rank, you had to sign up for a certain amount of time.  After your time was up, you could stay in the army or go back to what you were doing.  But you had no more limits.

          It wasn't so much a test of loyalty as a test of resolve: If you survived your time in the army, there was probably no stopping you anyway.  The Autobots had a more democratic system, which the Decepticons found silly.  Why should Cybertron do anything for you if you're not willing to do something for it?

          The emphasis meant this: _I wouldn't have my rank if I wasn't a survivor.  I can take care of myself._

          It was supposed to be reassuring, and Starscream carefully set his expression accordingly.  He wasn't comforted, though; the last thing from it, in fact.  Because it was pretty much exactly what Starscream himself would have said.

* * *

          A-JX-522 was an almost sun-type star in the M31 Galaxy, about fifteen hundred light-years from Cybertron's original position.  Which would otherwise be a ridiculously long journey between galaxies, if Starscream didn't know about the Corridor.

          The Corridor was where normal space was thin and touched subspace.  It's origins and length were currently unknown.  All Starscream really knew was that it passed through both the M31 and Milky Way galaxies, and that travelling it, even he could travel the distance between Cybertron ( where it used to be ) and Earth.  Unfortunately, due to the start of the Cybertronian Wars ( and the fact that, at the time, Starscream was the only one who knew of the Corridor's existence and had recently suffered a loss great enough to turn him away from science, not that he would mention that, ) the Corridor was forgotten.

          Until Optimus Prime and his band stumbled across it accidentally as they left Cybertron all those years ago, with the Decepticon flagship in hot pursuit.  Come to think of it, it would have been faster to have just flown between the galaxies, rather than take the shortcut and end up in a four million year hibernation…  But, it couldn't have been predicted.  And in any case, both sides would know about the Corridor by now; even if the Autobots hadn't realised what they wandered into, they had Skyfire to tell them about it…

          "Commander?"

          Starscream pulled himself from his musings and glared at the purple Seeker at the helm.  "What?"

          To his credit, Shatterwing didn't flinch.  "Why are you hissing?"

          "I wasn't."  _And I dare you to say otherwise,_ he added silently.  Still, he was annoyed at himself; it wouldn't do to seem too emotional.  Keeping himself under tighter reign, Starscream returned to his thoughts.

          The Corridor was about four light-years from Cybertron as it orbited Barnard's Star.  That would be the longest part of the journey, a trip of several days.  They were only on day three now.  Once the subspace Corridor was reached, it would be only hours until they made it to Stormworld.  As if that was anything to look forward to.

          There would be nothing interesting happening until they reached the Corridor, so Starscream left the control room to return to his quarters.  There wouldn't be anything interesting there, either, but at least he could brood in peace.  Starscream flung himself into the chair, steepled his fingers in a meditative pose, and settled in for a good sulk.  The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a table, a computer console, and a couple of shelves, almost entirely bare of personal items.  He'd been a packrat once, but since becoming a warrior he tended to have the most Spartan quarters in the entire Decepticon army.  Even back on Earth, he hadn't even bothered to paint over the steel gray walls, leaving him as the only bit of colour in the room.  For someone who was determined to be the centre of attention in person, he didn't leave many signs of his existence.

          If he noticed that a couple of small items had been moved around, he didn't bother to complain about it.

* * *

          Starscream had to give Megatron some credit, albeit grudgingly.  Good as his word, the entire project _was_ under the Seeker's control.  He hadn't even been given a 'To Do' list, merely a ship and a crew.  Not that it was particularly difficult to come up with objectives: Convert the ship to a land-base, set up a power station for their own use, and re-establish communications with Cybertron.  Radio signals had a hard time piercing the Stormworld atmosphere.  If they were desperate, Dreadmoon or Vapourtrail could be sent orbital to relay a message, but they'd rather set up a satellite of some sort.

          Which reminded him…  "Vapourtrail," he said, turning to the green Decepticon at the science station.  "Take a few readings on the system – the star type, where the other planets are, take a couple pictures of the sky…  If the name of the planet is accurate, we won't be seeing it for a while."

          "We're within visual contact range," said Razorshift from the helm.  "Want me to call up the image?"

          "Yes," said Starscream tersely.  _'Want me to call up the image?'  And he was the Captain of the First Sector Guard?  I didn't weasel a command position out of Megatron so I could be addressed casually!_  Just because it wasn't a military assignment didn't mean formalities could be dropped.

          The picture that appeared on the screen was somewhat less than reassuring.  It was a world somewhat larger than Earth, shrouded in thick clouds in boiling purples, blacks, and blues.  Two satellites orbited Stormworld; lumpy little things that were less moons than asteroids that got caught in the planet's gravitational pull.

          Starscream sighed.  "Make a slow orbit around the planet, Razorshift, then begin a landing approach."  That should grant Vapourtrail sufficient time to complete her scans.

          A little over two hours later, the ship circled lower, suddenly breaking the cloud barrier.  Which would have been more impressive if there was actually something to look at.  An emphatic voice behind Starscream said, "Yuck."

          He turned.  Apparently not currently needed by the other Insecticons, Sway was sitting near the back of the command deck, making a face at the screen.  "When we get weather like this on Coleop, we just stay inside.  And even then, our storms are nice to look at."  Coleop was a planet of metal – it evolved that way.  Watching the lightning light up the forests was an impressive sight.  From indoors, of course.

          "Poor thing," said Starscream, with a complete lack of sympathy.  He didn't _ask_ for Insecticons; they just appeared.  Come to think of it, he hadn't asked for any of the others, either.  Probably all people that Megatron wanted to get rid of for one reason or another.  Tapping a few controls on the arm of his chair, Starscream took another look at the list: Dreadmoon, former Monitor of the Sixth Sector.  Razorshift and Shatterwing, Seekers who had been part of the First Sector Cybertronian Guard.  Vapourtrail, a scientist, barely three months out of the factory.  Crowbar and Gadget, a technician and his assistant.  Shrillcry, Sway, and Lightseeker, Insecticons of varying abilities.  Starscream sighed.

          Turning his attention to the science station, he said, "Vapourtrail, is there anywhere on this miserable planet that even pretends to be dry?"

          The green shuttle tapped at her console.  "There's patches of clear sky in places, but it doesn't look like that's a stable condition."

          "Blast."  Starscream was hoping that the planet's name was exaggerated.  Apparently not.  In any case, the ship would have to land eventually and a place had to be chosen.  The low ground would be less prone to lightning strikes, but had a good chance of flooding.  And high ground might make communications easier.  High ground, then.

          "There," said Starscream pointing, before remembering that Razorshift would be looking at the screen and not at him.  "On the bluff, back at the tree-line."  A lightning rod to keep the ship from getting blasted would be easy enough to install, and Starscream liked the idea of being able to survey his domain from on high… at least, if the weather ever cleared enough to see any real distance.

* * *

          A few hours after the ship landed and everyone settled into their tasks, Starscream checked the energon inventory and scowled.  They weren't running too low, but they _had_ used more than expected.  At first suspecting a stowaway, the Seeker quickly decided against that possibility; not enough had been taken, no one had noticed anyone out of place, and who would want to hitch-hike to Stormworld in the first place?  Besides, every cube could be accounted for, spread throughout the crew.  They'd just been using more energy lately, himself included.  Probably just excitement.  Still, it annoyed him.

          He walked to the nearest stack and picked up three cubes.  It should be sufficient for…

          He dropped them and whirled, weapons at the ready.  "All right, I don't…"  And stopped, because there was no one there.

          The Seeker carefully walked around the energon stack.  He hadn't heard anything, true, but his sensors were very good at picking up unusual or unexpected energy signatures, and he had _felt_ something behind him.  And when he got feelings like that, he jumped, because those senses had saved him from damage or termination on more than one occasion.

          No one.  Nothing.  Not a flicker.  Still, Starscream trusted his own senses, even if no one else did despite the fact that he had a marked tendency to be right.  Still wary, he activated his communicator and said, "Lightseeker, report to the energon inventory room for a moment."

          The scientist appeared in minutes.  "Yes, Commander?"

          "Scan this room," said Starscream.  "My sensors picked up some kind of energy reading.  I want you to verify."

          The moth wiggled her antennae a bit, face twisted in concentration.  After a few minutes, she looked up and shrugged.  "Nothing, sir.  Only the power of the ship, the energon, my energy, and your own."

          Starscream nodded.  "Very well, then.  As you were."  Lightseeker nodded and left.

          _All right,_ Starscream told himself, _I'm just on edge.  Big new responsibilities and all._  Still, he shot a wary glance around the room before he collected up the energon cubes and headed out.

* * *

          He _could_ have stayed on Cybertron.  He was rather regretting not doing so, and he had only been on the planet for four hours.

          Dreadmoon, once-Monitor of the Sixth Sector of Cybertron, pushed such thoughts aside.  He volunteered for this job, and it was too late to back out now.  Besides, deep within himself, he knew Starscream needed him.  Starscream would probably deny it.

          At the moment, he was following a couple steps behind as Starscream angrily pushed through the wet jungle.  Flying would have been faster, but weather conditions prohibited it.  The sky was a tempest, and of the whole group, only Starscream, Razorshift, and Shatterwing had _any_ training in storm-flying.

          The planet was Starscream's death sentence.

          If Starscream was to be believed, anyway.  Stormworld was a lovely planet… from orbit.  The clouds swirled in grays and purples and blacks, glowing sporadically with lightning…  It was a warm world, the fourth one out from its sun, covered almost completely by thick jungle and lacking entirely in any animal life larger than the usual allotment of bacteria.  From the surface, it was terrible.  The rain came down in buckets, high winds discouraged flight, and lightning was a constant danger.

          Because of the very real risk of termination, Starscream's crew were all volunteers.  Dreadmoon wasn't sure if this was a particularly good thing.  He knew his own motives were pure enough, but why would any of the others sign up for what could very well be a suicide mission?

          He took a quick look over his shoulder at the other two in the current expedition – directly behind him was the moth-like Insecticon female, Lightseeker.  The thick flora wasn't as much of a problem for her as the others ( like most Insecticons, she was about half the size of an ordinary Decepticon ), but the rain was making her miserable.  Ever since the Insecticons had become an official part of the Decepticon Empire, they wanted to be a part of _everything_.  As soon as they heard of Starscream's expedition, they immediately pounced on it, sending three of their people.

          Behind the moth, bringing up the rear, was Razorshift, formerly the Captain of the First Sector Guard.  The jet-black Seeker could in theory shift himself slightly so the rain and foliage would phase right through him, but it wouldn't be worth the cost of the energy drain.  Dreadmoon couldn't begin to guess why he'd given up a nice, high-profile job to join what was essentially a doomed scientific expedition.  The others in the crew were all back at the ship they had arrived in, refitting it into a base of operations.

          "I don't see why we're looking for the old place.  We all read the reports."  It was Razorshift's voice, filtered over the radio.  The howling wind currently made ordinary conversation outside impossible, unless you wanted to shout.

          Starscream's voice replied immediately: "The reports aren't complete.  Maybe the ones in the original expedition's base will be."

          It was a wild planet and had resisted taming before.  Long ago, the Decepticons had tried to harness the sheer elemental forces of the Stormworld.  The ship had landed, energon production had exceeded the most generous of expectations, and, three weeks later, it all stopped – shipments, communication, everything.  Of course, signals couldn't pierce the raging skies and thus had to be done from orbit, and the space-bridge hadn't been invented yet, so it took Cybertron a while to get worried.

          A team was eventually sent to find out what happened.  They vanished, too.

          "How are we supposed to find it in this mess of a jungle?" complained Razorshift.  "Why can't I do some aerial reconnaissance?  If I phase, the wind and lightning can't touch me."

          The radio sighed.  "It's been six million years," said Starscream shortly.  "The building will be completely grown-over by now; you'll never see it from the air.  Besides, I have the exact co-ordinates, and we're almost there."

          A geological survey could have told the four Decepticons what they already knew; the hill before them was not a natural feature.  It would have fooled anyone else; the lush jungle covered it as thickly as it did everywhere else.  Starscream gestured to the moth: "Lightseeker, can your sensors locate a door?"

          Her antennae, which usually hung down her back, flipped up and she opened a panel in her arm – revealing a small screen – to check her readings.  "Probably."  Choosing randomly, Lightseeker began walking left around the base of the hill.  After about twenty metres, she stopped.  "There's a hatch under here, under almost two metres of dirt."

          Starscream cleared the main part of the earth away with his lasers, then stepped back to check his handiwork.  A mudslide wouldn't happen; the trees grew too thickly for that.  There was still the problem of opening the door, though.  There couldn't be power in the base, not after all this time, but there had to be a manual override.  Not on the outside, of course.  "Razorshift, go inside and see if you can open the hatch."

          The black Seeker seemed to blur around the edges, losing focus until he was only a shadow.  The shadow stepped towards the door, then vanished through it.  Phasing though something electrical tended to short it out temporarily, but power hadn't flowed through this place for millions of years.  After a few minutes, he found the manual switch and opened the door.

          The base was a tomb, certainly in the metaphorical sense, and it was a good bet that it would be in the literal sense, too.  It was also pitch-black, so everyone had their lights on, which made the general ambience worse as the shadows moved.  The base was silent except for the hollow tread of their footsteps… until the air was torn by a sickening crunch.

          Dreadmoon whirled, for the sound came from behind him.  His lights fell full-on the moth, who was wearing a guilty expression.  A short pipe with a ragged end dangled from her hand.  He didn't usually snap at people, but the place was giving him the creeps.  "_Must_ you do that?"

          The Insecticon tried ineffectually to tuck the pipe behind her back.  "Sorry.  When I get nervous, I snack."

          "Would you two knock it…"  Starscream paused, as if sniffing the air, which was almost an accurate analogy.  "I sense power here."

          Lightseeker's antennae twitched.  "So do I, very faint.  Strange.  It should have all leaked away by now."

          "It's not impossible," said Dreadmoon.  It was, however, very improbable.

          "Dreadmoon, you and Razorshift will accomplish our initial objective – get the computer online again," said Starscream.  "Lightseeker and I will track the energy readings."  The Decepticons split up.

          Despite their own lights, it wasn't easy navigating the unknown station.  Lightseeker had shrieked when she tripped over a body in the dark, but pulled herself together quickly.  As a Coleop Insecticon – a formerly organic being – death affected her worse than it did the non-organic Transformers.

After twenty minutes, the auxiliary lights in the ceiling flickered on.  "It seems the others are faster than us," said Starscream.  Dreadmoon had fed a few energon cubes into the generator, and would now be trying to download the station logs.  Meanwhile, the going would be a lot easier for Starscream and Lightseeker.

          Not that it took long now.  Starscream forced a door and Lightseeker irrationally clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle another scream.  The room was a computer laboratory of sorts, and seemed to be where several of the former crew met their ends.  There were six shells sprawled throughout the room… well, five shells and one other.

          Ignoring the empty carcasses, Starscream crossed the room to where a female Decepticon of rust and gold lay.  "This is the one.  She still functions."

          Lightseeker crouched down by a deep gray jet, gasped, and backed away quickly.  Most of his chest had been burned away, dried fluids still clinging to his carapace.

          "You're a Decepticon," said Starscream, noticing the moth's discomfort.  "One of a warrior-race.  Get used to it."  He easily lifted the unconscious Decepticon, and with Lightseeker trailing behind, went to find Dreadmoon and Razorshift.

* * *

          "I don't see any damage," said Crowbar.  "Let's give her a recharge and see what happens."

          It was a few hours later, and Starscream's small team had returned to base.  The female Decepticon from the buried station lay on the table in the repair bay.  Her height and build were a little smaller than average, and treads on her legs showed her transform to be a ground vehicle of some kind.  But strangest of all was her head, for instead on the usual helmet-type set-up, she had thick metal ropes that ended in tips that reminded Starscream uncomfortably of the Robo-Smasher.

          The repair bay was nearly empty; just Starscream, Crowbar, and the survivor.  The others – including Crowbar's little sidekick Gadget – were busy with the ship conversions.  Dreadmoon was up in the control centre, trying to coax the other base's station logs to give him some useful information.  The rust-coloured Decepticon on the table might be able to do better.  "Charge her, then."

          The black Decepticon nodded, then connected his patient to the ship's power supply.  After a few minutes, her optics flickered with a yellow light, and Crowbar disconnected her from the feed-cable.  She moved her head slightly to get a better look at her benefactors, causing her strange 'hair' to crawl unnervingly.  "Where..?"

          "Stormworld, in the repair bay of what had been a spacecraft, but is now a land-base.  I am Starscream, commander of this little expedition," said Starscream.  "Who are you and what is your function?"

          "I am a computer… technician.  I am… Memory."

          "A useful name," said Starscream.  Hopefully the female's memories could shed some light on the first expedition.  He gestured to the black Decepticon.  "This is Crowbar, our mechanic.  He'll check you over, and later…"

          The effect was instantaneous and completely unexpected.  Memory rolled from the table, taking up a defensive crouch on the other side of the room.  "Keep away from me!"

          The comment was addressed to Crowbar, but Starscream answered.  "Oh, for…  _What_ is your _problem?_"

          Memory slowly straightened up.  "I apologise.  It has been a long time since I could… trust anyone."  She considered that.  "In any case, I am undamaged."

          The other two looked at one another.  Crowbar shrugged.  Starscream looked back at Memory.  "Very well.  If you're in such great shape, you'll be able to answer a few questions."

* * *

          They found Dreadmoon where Starscream had left him; in the control room, hunched over a computer console.  Vapourtrail was working at another station.  She didn't bother looking over when the door opened, but Dreadmoon did.  He stood.  "Starscream.  I'm almost finished transferring the first expedition's logs to our system."

          "Good," said Starscream.  Noticing the unspoken question, he added, "Dreadmoon, this is the survivor from the other base – Memory.  She might be of some use to us.  What have you got so far?"

          The monitor sighed, shaking his head.  "Fragments.  Not much more than we already know in terms of actual information.  A month of standard reports, then it starts to get… strange."

          "Strange?"

          Dreadmoon turned back to the console and summoned up the reports.  "Strange," he nodded.  "They weren't too worried at first when the communications first cut off, thinking it was just equipment failure.  But it started to… get to them somehow, they got jittery and paranoid.  Their first casualty was Steamer, their geologist.  One of the engineers gunned him down, claiming he was some sort of monster.  They terminated the engineer several hours later, judging him to be too dangerous to let live.  The transcript of his trial reads like a horror novel."

          The Seeker nudged him aside to look at the list of the perished for himself.  "Great Cybertron, was it _all_ like this?"  Dreadmoon just nodded.  Scientist Carbine, destroyed two others before being destroyed himself.  Mission Commander Skyvortex, shot in the back by an unknown assailant.  Mechanic Second Class Mistshard, shot herself to prevent 'them' from getting her.  Engineer Nighthaunter, deliberately flew into the heart of a storm and was obliterated by lightning.  The list went on.  Starscream looked back at Memory.  "Anything to add to this?"

          She shook her head.  "It all seems to be in order.  I wasn't a very high rank, though; likely I have less information than the records."

          Starscream nodded sympathetically.  "You were lucky to have survived that nightmare at all."  He turned to the scientist and called, "Vapourtrail, take a short break to assign quarters to our guest."

          The two female Decepticons left.  Dreadmoon waited for the door to close before asking, "You trust her?"

          "Not a bit."  Starscream sat down at another console.  "See if you can find Memory's service record.  I'll look up those five we found with her."

          After a few minutes of searching he said, "Interesting."

          Dreadmoon looked over.  "Find them?"

          "Yes."  Starscream tapped a few keys at his computer.  "Those five bodies we found in the room with Memory were the team sent to find the first expedition.  Rather interesting how they didn't split up to search.  And, checked against the time-logs, they arrived mere _hours_ after Memory claims to have put herself in stasis-mode.  Obviously, they never had a chance to try to wake her."

          The last survivor was _always_ the prime suspect.  "Her record checks out, though – Memory, Computer Technician Third Class.  Trained at the Cybertron Science Academy, graduated with a rather modest standing.  Got drafted into the Stormworld project because it looked like an easy enough assignment for her.  Spent her time fixing computer glitches and filing reports."  Dreadmoon tapped the screen.  "All in all, not impressive."

          "Mm-hmm, so the easy answer is that she sabotaged communications, killed everyone else, and faked the records," said Starscream.  "Which is a stupid theory because it's impossible.  Skyvortex had a crew of over thirty; Memory simply could not have picked them all off."

          The monitor spread his hands.  "The other answer is that the records are true."

          "That some sort of madness possessed the crew and drove them to destroy themselves.  I don't like that, either," said Starscream.  He stood, running his hands over his head.  "Unfortunately, we haven't got time for the luxury of a proper investigation yet.  Dreadmoon, finish with the records then help Vapourtrail with the communications satellite."  He left.

* * *

          Crowbar had drafted Razorshift and Shatterwing into helping him disassemble the ship's jets so he could use the parts to set up a refinery.  Starscream was annoyed that he hadn't thought of it – without some way to process materials, they weren't going to be able to build or repair anything.  He _should_ have thought of it… but didn't let on that he didn't, of course.

          Well, the ship would never fly again.  In theory, once they re-established communications with Cybertron, they could get a space-bridge connection.  If they made it that far.

          In the heart of the ship, Starscream came to a door.  It used to be the engine room, but it was now Insecticon Domain.  This is where the three tended to hang out, partially because they were assigned to set up a generator, but mostly because it was the warmest room in the ship.  Not that temperature affected them much, but they were all former coleop and were used to the heat of their homeworld.  There were no chairs in the room, but there were perches.

          Two of the perches were occupied; one by Lightseeker, another by the dragonfly-like warrior Sway, both in their insect-modes ( it seemed to be a rule that all Insecticons preferred them. )  Lightseeker was a bit above and behind the third Insecticon – Shrillcry – who was sketching something on a large sheet of paper.  Shrillcry was in robot-mode, but it was obvious her transform was something akin to a praying mantis.  She and the moth were arguing: "I don't think we could set up a converter on such a large scale."

          "Just a thought, Shrill."  The moth cocked her head slightly.  "A lightning rod, maybe?  Get some use out of this disgusting weather?"

          "Hmm, maybe.  Easy set up, unlimited power source… maybe a bit _too_ unlimited…"

          "Well, if we set up an overflow here…"

          Starscream stepped up behind them.  "An imperfect solution will buy us time to find a better one," he reminded them.  Of course the Insecticons weren't worried that their energon supplies were running low; they could convert anything they ate into useable power.  Maybe he should have set Vapourtrail or Crowbar on the energy problem, but they were needed where they were, and the Insecticons' records stated that they were more than competent.

          "A _temp_ job?"  Shrillcry sounded offended.

          "Yes, so get to it."  Starscream turned and left.  The Insecticons buzzed behind him.

          "Rude being," muttered Shrillcry.  "I don't see why we were told to help him."

          Lightseeker preened her antennae.  "Because we are the best Coleop has to offer."

          There was a bitter snort from the dragonfly.  "Hmm, maybe," grumbled Sway.  "This planet has no threats but lousy weather; why send me, a warrior, hmm?"

          "Because we come in threes," said Lightseeker.  Turning back to Shrillcry's drawing, she said, "He wants a temp job, we give him a temp…"  She stopped suddenly, turning with a guilty little jump.  "I mean that with all possible respect, of course, Comm…"  Again she stopped, but this time out of puzzlement.

          Sway looked up from her brooding.  "What's, hmm, wrong?"

          The moth looked uncertain.  "Nothing, I guess.  I thought I heard Starscream come back in."

          "Silly girl," chided Shrillcry.  "Now, about your lightning rod idea…"

          _To be continued…_


	2. A Mind Not To Be Changed

**A Mind Not To Be Changed**

_…--one who brings  
A mind not to be changed by place or time.  
The mind is its own place, and in itself  
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven…_

* * * 

          "Still raining, Commander?"

          Starscream didn't bother to look over.  Vapourtrail giggled nervously and continued, "Sorry.  The crew has a fairly basic sense of humour."  A typical exchange ran thus: _"How's the weather out there?"  "Awful, thanks."_  In two days, the constant rain had become a running gag.

          Perhaps the others could laugh at it, but Starscream took it personally.  It _was_ his own little punishment, after all.  He was sitting at the mouth of the hangar, legs dangling over the edge, glaring balefully at the sky.  "We used to look forward to weather like this, back on Earth," he said.

          "Pardon?"

          "We came up with a game called storm-tag," Starscream continued, as if to himself.  "Fairly silly game, really, diving through the clouds and trying to be the last one knocked to the ground."  He jackknifed his left leg up and rested his arms on his knee.  "Megatron always yelled at us for playing it, of course.  Especially after the time Skywarp got hit one too many times and started hallucinating."

          Vapourtrail looked out to the sky, then back to her commander.  "You could teach _us_.  Several of us are fast enough to keep up, I think."

          The Seeker shook his head.  "Too dangerous.  There's so few of us.  I can't afford to let any of you risk yourselves for silly reasons."

          "Flying above the clouds isn't always an option and we can't make _you_ do all the recon work," Vapourtrail persisted.  "We're not used to this kind of weather.  Teaching it as a game, maybe minus the trying to get your comrades fried…"

          "No."

          Without allowing herself a second thought ( even a first thought might have stopped her ), Vapourtrail shifted and dived over the bluff calling: "You'll have to teach _me_, at least!"

          Starscream bit back an oath and followed.  Storm-flying wasn't a forgiving activity, and he didn't trust any of the others to be able to do it yet.  Razorshift had done cloud-seeding before on Cybertron, but he stayed above the clouds.  Dreadmoon and Shatterwing were used to deep space and clear skies respectively.  Sway was an Insecticon, too light for high winds.  And Vapourtrail… at least the others were warriors, used to thinking on the fly.  "You little fool!  You're going to get yourself killed!" he howled.

          "I… I can't see!"  It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she hit a cloudbank and instantly reconsidered.  All she could see was gray… gray… and Vapourtrail was tossed by the wind and shook by the thunder and wasn't even sure which way was _up_…

          "Use your optics and your radar, but trust neither completely!" Starscream ordered.  "Level off… no, it doesn't matter which way is up yet, just stop twisting around.  Once you stabilize, check your gyros and adjust accordingly."

          Terrified, Vapourtrail did as she was told.  She fixed her starboard list and slightly downward course, and levelled off.  "All… all right.  I've got it."  Well, as level as possible given the wind.

          Her commander was waiting above the clouds, back in his robot-mode.  "Good.  Fly up until you break the cloud barrier.  You'll be able to see, then."  And he would be there to give her the yelling-at of her existence, the stupid girl.

On his radio, she began to say, "Yes, sir," but then static and her own scream cut it off.  Starscream knew the sound; she had been struck by lightning.  _"Vapourtrail!"_ shouted Starscream, shifting as he dove.  "Vapourtrail, activate your homing beacon and transform!  Do it!"  A grapple could never hold her sleek shuttle-form.

          Within a second, he felt the beacon, and adjusted his course.  Sight was useless, radar was useless, all he could go by was Vapourtrail's homing beacon and his altimeter.  When his senses told him he was close enough, Starscream released his grappling hook, and felt it catch some solid object.  He reeled in a bit, then tore back to base, where he dropped Vapourtrail in a tangled pile on the hangar floor.

          Starscream landed, shifted, and stormed back.  "You little idiot!  I ought to use you for spare parts!"

          "I'm sorry.  I thought…"

          "'Thought'?  If you had thought, you wouldn't have done that!" yelled Starscream.  "Megatron _wants_ me to fail; this is all some big joke for him, stranding me on this wretched planet with a lunatic crew…  _Well, I won't let him win!_  I _will_ tame this planet!  I _will_…"  Suddenly remembering that he wasn't alone, Starscream cut off in mid-rant and turned away.  "Go to the repair bay.  Never pull a stunt like that again."

          "Yes, sir."  Vapourtrail turned and ran from the hangar.

          Starscream's voice stopped her at the door.  "And, Vapourtrail?  To dodge lightning, you wait for a slight tingle through your entire chassis, then jump forward."__

* * *

          For a being who prided himself on stealth, Starscream was one of the noisiest people Dreadmoon had ever met.  When he was in a bad mood, everyone knew it.  Currently a chair knew it, and had it not been bolted down, would have hit the control room's opposite wall.  Memory jumped slightly at the noise, Dreadmoon didn't even bother looking over.  He was getting used to the Seeker's mood swings.  "You all right?"

          "_I'm_ fine, my _crew_ is nuts," growled Starscream, annoyed that he'd caused his foot more damage than he did to the chair.

          "What happened?"

          Starscream sat down heavily in the abused chair.  "Vapourtrail decided she had something to prove and took off storm-flying.  She was struck, didn't know how to handle it, and would have crashed if I hadn't caught her."  He sighed.  "She's a scientist, and therefore, in theory, fairly bright."

          "She's inexperienced," Dreadmoon countered.  Aside from the Insecticons, Vapourtrail was the only recently-built Decepticon in the crew.  She was programmed to be highly intelligent, but as a sparked Transformer, her intelligence had no real context yet.  You couldn't program life experience.  "Of course, none of us have any real experience with storm-flying…"

          "Don't _you_ start."

          The monitor didn't have a chance.  Memory interjected, "The maps made by my team were incomplete.  The planet must eventually be explored.  You could do it yourself, but even with your skills, it isn't safe to travel alone."

          Dreadmoon stepped back into the conversation.  "Crowbar and the Insecticons have the refinery running, so even if everyone gets torn up while practicing, at least we have the materials for repairs."

          "But…"

          "_And_ the Seekers are getting jittery," Dreadmoon steamrolled.  "They weren't so bad during the space flight, but just two days of being cooped up in the base here has them on edge.  The Insecticons complain that Razorshift's new hobby is bothering them."

          Resting his face in his hand, Starscream peered though his fingers.  "What _is_ his hobby?"

          "Bothering the Insecticons."  At his commander's sigh, Dreadmoon continued, "It would do _him_ at least a world of good to get blasted a few times, just to remind him that he's not as hot as he thinks he is.  The rest of us…" – the monitor shrugged – "We just need to get out for a little while."

          "Cabin fever," muttered Starscream.  "I give up."

* * *

          "… and when in doubt, land and walk," finished Starscream.  "Anything else you'll have to pick up by experience.  Fortunately, one lightning strike won't cause any appreciable damage, though it may knock your gyros out.  If you _are_ hit, land, or at least crash gently."

          While all Decepticons could fly, not all had specific flight transforms, thus only Razorshift, Shatterwing, Dreadmoon, Vapourtrail, and Sway stood in a loose semi-circle on the bluffs, listening to him.  Not that all were paying attention; Razorshift looked obviously bored and Shatterwing seemed mesmerized by the storm.  Starscream favoured the other Seekers with a nasty smile.  "But since you _obviously_ know what you're doing, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate?"

          "I did cloud-seeding on Cybertron a few times," said Razorshift, folding into his pyramid-jet form.  "Acid rain.  Nastier stuff than _this_ weather."

          "Prove it."

          The black jet took off silently, then did a couple loops simply because he knew he was being watched.  The high winds made fancy flying difficult, but he wasn't going to let himself get blown off-course in front of the others.  Thunder rolled…

          "He phased," said Dreadmoon, after the lightning faded.  "Doesn't that rather skip the entire point of this little exercise?"

          "Not at all," Starscream retorted, watching the black Seeker's outlines re-establish themselves.  "The point is not to be struck.  It doesn't matter how he dodges, so long as he does.  If it were an actual game of storm-tag, he'd have been disqualified, though."  Probably by a warning shot across his nosecone, or up it, depending on who noticed the transgression.

          He turned back to the others.  "All right, the rest of you, get in the air.  All forms, powers, and skills are fair game.  I'll be right there to yell at you if you're doing something wrong."

          "Hmm, _so_ comforting," muttered Sway.  Being only half the size of the rest of them, the Insecticon would have the hardest time in the storm.  Not that she was going to back out of it.  She shifted to her dragonfly-mode and followed the others into the sky.

          Dreadmoon's shuttle-mode was his faster form, but right now he wanted manoeuvrability, so he stayed in robot shape.  He preferred flying in his humanoid form, anyway; his transform was more like a hovercraft than a jet, so his wings were lost when they folded around him to form his hull.  In robot-mode, he could stretch his wings to the sky, catch the wind, and feel the rain pound against him.  He arced through the air, pulling up alongside the leisurely cruising jet-form of his commander.  "This is interesting.  Sloughing through the jungle was pretty awful, but up here, the rain doesn't seem nearly so bad."

          "Psychosomatic," said Starscream.  "Things are always better from the air."

          "You know, I don't actually remember weather on Cybertron.  Cloud-seeding, yes, but not real weather."

          "How old are you?"

          "Seven-point-one-one-eight million years."

          Had he been in robot-mode, Starscream would have nodded.  "That explains it.  Most of the liquid water had vanished from Cybertron nearly eight million years ago.  It might have been natural, it might have been some side-effect of the war.  I don't know.  Either way, without free water, you're not going to have rain."

          "Strange."  Dreadmoon looked up.  "What's that?"

          Starscream directed his attention in the same direction at the boiling mass of black clouds in the distance.  "The heart of the storm.  Just avoid it."

          "One of the Seekers is flying straight for it."

          "_What?_  Which one?" demanded Starscream, though all either could see was the pyramid silhouette.  "It doesn't matter; I'm going to drag him back by his stupid wings."  The silver Seeker shot forward, though his voice filtered back over Dreadmoon's radio, "And _don't follow me!_  Don't argue, either; you can't handle this type of flying yet."

          It took only a couple minutes for Starscream to close the gap between himself and the other Seeker; the other may have had a head start, but no one was faster than Starscream.  As the distance narrowed, he could finally get a good look at the other.  Purple.  Shatterwing.

          He tried radioing, but got no answer.  _What is that idiot trying to prove?  He can't survive a maelstrom like that!_

          _Come to think of it, I probably can't, either._  There was an easy way to get Shatterwing away from the heart of the storm.  Starscream shifted back to his robot-mode, and opened fire with his null-ray.  The other noticed and tried to evade, but Starscream's fourth shot got him.

          Back by the bluffs, Razorshift flew a tight loop around Sway, using his own jet stream to throw the small Decepticon off balance.  Fed up, the dragonfly shifted back to her humanoid form, standing on the air.  "Razorshift!  Hmm, your cowardice and stupidity are evident."

          The back Seeker shifted to robot-mode to face her.  "_Reeea_lly?"

          "It's, hmm, abundantly obvious that you can't pick on someone your own size," said Sway archly.  "That, and, you made the mistake of, hmm, bothering the greatest of the Insecticon warrior caste."

          "The greatest _Insecticon_ warrior?" laughed Razorshift.  "I'm shaking."

          Almost faster than the eye could follow, Sway removed the blade from her left gauntlet, extended the handle, and threw it, skewering Razorshift's wing.  He phased automatically to rid himself of the weapon – he could only shift himself, not outside objects – and the dragonfly dove to catch it.

          Arcing back up to hover in front of the Seeker, Sway said, "That's, hmm, my challenge, guardsman.  Unless you're, mm, afraid to be bested by an Insecticon?"

          "I _wasn't_ going to hurt you," snarled Razorshift, glancing at the hole in his wing, "but I think I will now.  Prepare to be squashed, insect."

          "Mm, are you going to fight or are you going to pose?"

          Razorshift attacked, shifting to his pyramid-jet form as he dove at the dragonfly.  She sidestepped, swinging her blade, but it passed harmlessly through the Seeker's intangible form.  The black Seeker swung around for another pass, this time firing his guns.  Quick, but not quick enough to dodge laserfire, Sway's right wings were scorched.

          They kept the pattern up for several minutes; Razorshift would attack, and Sway would dodge.  He stuck to his lasers; crashing through her while phased would short her systems and win the fight, but holding the shift took too much energy to do it for long.  A faint hum could be heard now, if one listened carefully though the ambient noises of storm and engines.

          The Seeker started to make mistakes, slowing at crucial moments or coming too close to the Insecticon's now-flashing blade.  Sway was toying with him now, not causing any real damage, just scoring shallow lines across his black hull.  Which made Razorshift angry.  Which also made him more reckless.

          This time, he abandoned any pretence of a fancy attack, merely dove at her – if the two crashed, he would take very little damage.  Unfortunately, she moved out of the way again…

          … dug her claws into his hull…

          … pulled herself around to his aft section…

          … and drove one of her spears straight into his left thruster.

          Sway jumped clear as the pyramid-jet began to tailspin, shifting in his fall back to his robot-mode.  Dreadmoon dove and caught him, carrying him to the edge of the bluffs.  The other Decepticons followed at their own speeds.  Starscream caught up to the group and touched down between the two combatants, dragging Shatterwing behind him.  "If you two have _quite_ got that out of your systems..?"

          "I think he's, hmm, learned his lesson."  She preened a bit.  "I _am_ called 'Sway' for a reason.  Since he used his powers, I used mine."

          The black Seeker scowled.  "Subsonics.  You _rattled_ me, you crawly little…"

          _"Stop it!"_ hollered Starscream.  "The entire blasted _planet_ is putting a concentrated effort into killing us, and you two would rather waste resources with your pointless infighting!"  He stepped back and glared, optics blazing.  "From now on, such behaviour will be classified as sabotage."  With that, Starscream threw himself from the cliff, shifting, and vanished into the storm.

          Dreadmoon sighed and turned back to the others.  "I think the lesson's over."

* * *

          "Why are we here?"  Crowbar repeated Dreadmoon's question, turning it over in his mind.

          For his part, after dealing with Razorshift and Sway's insolence, Dreadmoon was thoroughly fed up with the crew.  The problem was that Starscream had no idea how to deal with it.  Back on Earth, Starscream could blast some sense into his people, knowing that they could be repaired easily enough.  On Stormworld, physical damage only served to distract the techs from their more important tasks.  And if Starscream couldn't keep his troops in line on Earth, Megatron could easily step in and quell any rebellion.

          On Stormworld, options were much more limited.  They were short-staffed as it was, which put physical violence and banishment out of the question.  Things would have to be done psychologically, and Dreadmoon couldn't know where to begin until he knew why they were there in the first place.  Personnel files could only tell so much, and he was in a foul enough mood that he could walk up to people and ask.

          Gadget peeked down from a vent.  "I'm here because Crow's here," she piped before vanishing back into the system.

          The monitor turned back to the black Decepticon.  Crowbar shrugged.  "The Stormworld project's different.  Challenging.  I never had to deal with rain on Cybertron."

          "That's _it_?"

          "I heard about the fight outside," said Crowbar, picking up an arc-welder and crouching down by a bulkhead.  "So the warriors are jerks; most people are sometimes.  Thing is, we're all stuck here together.  Soon as they remember that, they'll smarten up."

          A clatter from the ducts announced Gadget's return.  "Hey, Crow, I got the vents hooked up."  There was a bit more scuffling, then, "Did you swipe my rivet-gun?..  Oh, here it is.  What now, boss?"

          Crowbar turned his attention to his assistant.  Apparently, the interview was over.  Dreadmoon left.

* * *

          "Why?  Is this a survey?" yawned Razorshift.

          The monitor glared at him.  "We won't get off this planet alive if we spend our whole time fighting with each other, so you might as well confess why you're here exactly.  At the very least, I want to calculate my own chances for survival, just for curiousity."

          The black Seeker shrugged.  "You really want to know?"  He settled back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and settling his feet on the table.  "I'm here because I got goaded into it by a little purple troublemaker who accused me of going soft.  I made the mistake of letting her remarks get to me, and was in a bad enough mood when I heard of Stormworld to sign up.  Once this nonsense is over with, I'm going to go back to Cybertron and put a few dents in that pretty little chassis of hers."

          Dreadmoon sighed.  Of course; machismo.  Why else would a warrior join a scientific expedition?  He looked over at Shatterwing.  "Right.  And what do _you_ intend to do once you get out of here?"

          He instantly regretted the question when Shatterwing glanced up with a far-away look in his optics and said, "I don't."

* * *

          The Insecticons snickered when Dreadmoon put his question to them.  From her perch, the moth fluttered her wings.  "Now _that's_ a story."

          The mantis dropped from her place near the ceiling, unfolding into her robot-mode before she hit the floor.  Shrillcry grinned up at the shuttle.  "Don't worry; we have Starscream's best interests at heart."

          "Hmm, if we _had_ hearts."

          "At central processor," corrected Shrillcry primly.  "And we _used_ to have hearts.  Stop being so gloomy, Sway.  Anyway, Shrapnel wants us Insecticons to take part in the affairs of the Empire, which includes this project.  The prosperity of the Empire affects the prosperity of Coleop, after all."

          Lightseeker giggled again.  "Except that Shrapnel and the others don't particularly like Starscream, and were considering sending a team to sabotage things."

          "Only that they heard that the Stormworld project came as a result of a bet between Starscream and Megatron, and our leaders like Megatron even less," finished Shrillcry happily.  "So we _are_ the best that Coleop has to offer, and we _are_ perfectly loyal to Starscream and the project."

          "Until they, hmm, change their minds."

          "Stuff it, Sway."

          The dragonfly made an angry buzzing noise.  "You might be happy to be here, but I'm not!" she snapped, completely forgetting about Dreadmoon's existence.  "I am a warrior!  The greatest, hmm, warrior on Coleop!  This planet has nothing for me!  _He_ sent me here to get rid of me!"

          "Shrapnel?" asked Dreadmoon, confused.

          "Kickback," said Shrillcry, with a glare at Sway.  "He's in charge of the warriors."  Insecticon hierarchy was somewhat different from ordinary Decepticon hierarchy.  Shrapnel, Kickback, and Bombshell only led because they had more experience than the Coleop-born Insecticons.  Of those, Shrapnel was only in charge because he had his vision of the Insecticon future.  If the others had any bright ideas, they would take over and no one would worry.  If you wanted to get more specific, Kickback trained the warriors, Bombshell oversaw the workers and those with technical skill, and Shrapnel took care of everything else.  In the Hive, everyone had their function and didn't see why it should be any other way.

          The monitor didn't know this, and being a Decepticon, wouldn't understand such a loose hierarchy.  He asked, "What?  You were the better fighter and he felt threatened?"

          "Hrmm, probably afraid I'd bite his head off.  Moron."

          Dreadmoon felt he was missing something, and decided he didn't really want to know.  He made his excuses and left.

* * *

          "How's it coming?"

          Vapourtrail looked up at the sound of Dreadmoon's voice.  "Pretty good," she said, waving a hand over the tangle of parts on the lab's table.  "The easy part is establishing communications between the satellite and Cybertron.  The hard part will be hooking our computers into the satellite through all the atmospheric interference."

          "Sounds like you have your work cut out for you," said Dreadmoon.  He would have offered to help, but being used to Cybertron, he had no experience with recalcitrant atmospheres.  "Starscream might be able to assist you; Earth had fairly nasty weather sometimes."

          "Actually, Memory's helping me out," Vapourtrail admitted.  "I know she's not a proper member of the crew, but she has experience with the Stormworld and wants to be useful."

          Personally, Dreadmoon didn't quite trust Memory yet.  But then, how much harm could she cause?  Anything she did with the satellite would be checked over by Vapourtrail, if not others, and keeping her busy would give her less time to cause trouble if she actually was untrustworthy.  Besides, the sooner they could set up the communications system, the better he would feel.

          He settled against the table and asked, "Why are you here, Vapourtrail?  On Stormworld?"

          The green Decepticon shrugged.  "Promotional opportunities.  I'm not a warrior, Dreadmoon; I wasn't built for it.  But unless time is served in the army, advancement is impossible.  This project is run by the heir apparent to the Empire; hopefully it will be high-profile enough that I'll be able to move on to better things despite my lack of military experience."

          Dreadmoon sighed.  They were a pack of mercenaries; but what could you expect from volunteers?  Vapourtrail noticed his expression and added, "I might stay, though, even after the initial objectives are completed.  Scientific conquest of a world this wild would be a great personal achievement, even if it never gets me anywhere."

          The monitor nodded and turned to leave, when he thought of something else.  "I didn't have a chance to ask before; why did you throw yourself into the storm when you knew you couldn't handle it?"

          Vapourtrail went back to the table and began picking at the satellite circuitry.  "He was depressed.  Starscream, I mean.  I thought that by giving him a problem that only he could solve, I could pull him out of himself."

          If the scientist expected a reprimand, she didn't get it.  Dreadmoon chuckled.  "I think I see.  Logical, but not very sensible."  If he had anything else to add, it was cut off by the opening of the lab door and the arrival of Memory.

          The technician nodded to Dreadmoon, then turned her attention to Vapourtrail.  "I believe I have a solution," she said, setting down a medium-sized device.  "Something in the atmosphere blocks our usual subspace and radio communication techniques.  If it is impossible to sidestep the interference, we will instead work with it."

          "Explain," said Vapourtrail.  This wasn't his task, so Dreadmoon left.

          As the door closed behind him, he heard, "Everything has a frequency.  If we find the frequency of Stormworld's environment, our signals may be able to ride…"

* * *

          Starscream was extremely unpredictable if you didn't know him inside out.  Which meant that Dreadmoon was caught by surprise when the Seeker read and subsequently threw the compad across the room.  Managing to look unruffled, Dreadmoon said, "I thought you would be interested in the motives of the crew."

          "I already knew they were a bunch of loonies," snapped Starscream.  "I do note that your own objectives were absent from the report."

          "I'm here because you need me."

          "Phooey."

          He had expected denial, though not in quite that word.  "You can't defeat Stormworld by yourself…"

          "_I_ am in charge here," Starscream reminded him.  "I am perfectly capable of handling _my_ crew."

          Dreadmoon bit back a sigh.  Starscream could be exasperating to deal with, and had to be handled carefully.  There was no use trying to wait for him to be in a better mood – the stress would just keep piling up.  Things had to be defused _now_.  "I don't doubt your abilities.  You have, however, been pushing yourself for almost a week.  Certainly your responsibilities are serious, but at this rate, you'll burn yourself out."

          "You're saying I can't do my job."

          It wasn't a question.  Dreadmoon gave up trying to be nice.  "I'm saying _no one_ could!"

          "He sent you, didn't he?"

          The monitor didn't have to ask who 'he' was.  "Starscream, I came of my own decision…"

          Starscream stood.  "He sent you to watch, to make sure I wouldn't… _bungle_ it.  Nine million years of service and he _still_ doesn't trust me to run my own missions…"

          "Great Cybertron, I know you took this whole assignment personally…"

          The Seeker turned.  "It _is_ personal."

          "Look, I don't know the details between you and Megatron, but if this project _is_ a specific conspiracy to kill you, don't you think he knows you well enough to know you'd wear yourself out trying to prove him wrong?"  Dreadmoon had been a Sector Monitor long enough to know how to play people against each other.

          Unfortunately, Starscream took it the exact wrong way.  "What's your advice, then, Dreadmoon?  Relinquish my hold, perhaps, since I'm unfit for duty?"

          "If you think I want to take over, you're crazier than everyone else seems to think you are!" snapped Dreadmoon.  Softening his voice, he said, "Just don't push yourself so hard.  We haven't got a deadline or any other reason to hurry the project.  You don't need to burn out just to prove your point."

          For a second, Dreadmoon thought that Starscream was going to shout at him, but if the Seeker considered it, he didn't act on it.  He knew how to deal with traitors and usurpers, but wasn't used to people who were genuinely concerned.  Dreadmoon pushed his advantage, catching his commander by the upper arm and steering him out of the control room.  "When was the last time you recharged?"

          "Seventeen hours ago."

          Dreadmoon sighed.  "Come on."

* * *

          Vapourtrail found herself hanging the equivalent of upside-down by the communications satellite, almost a kilometre above the upper reaches of Stormworld's atmosphere.  Not everyone could enjoy this position, but Vapourtrail did.  She was a shuttle by build, and found that she missed the stars and the wide, clean void of space.  Compared to the crispness of vacuum, Stormworld was just plain messy.  Of course, this wasn't a pleasure cruise; Vapourtrail was setting up the satellite.

From the ground, the main problem about setting up the satellite was that there was no way of knowing when exactly Vapourtrail got it into position; their own communicators couldn't pierce the atmosphere.  If it worked, Vapourtrail could use the satellite to tell them how things stood.  If not; if something happened to her or if she only _thought_ the satellite was functional, they would have no way of knowing.

          Fortunately, the radio in the computer lab crackled to life: "… hear me?..  ready…"

          Dreadmoon answered the hail: "We're receiving here, Vapourtrail, but your signal is weak."

          "We're not synchronized," said Memory.  Starscream, the last person in the control room, nodded as he looked over a display.  The tech continued, "Leave your channel open, Vapourtrail; I will attempt to bring the frequencies into alignment from here."

          After a few minutes, Starscream said, "It's not working.  There's too much frequency variation.  If we could design a modulator capable of automatically adjusting to rate-shifts…"

          "Can't… from here…  I'll have… bring… down…" said Vapourtrail, annoyed, over the radio.

          "Perhaps not," replied Memory, tapping at her computer.  "The base's computer is much more powerful than the one onboard the satellite, and is therefore more capable to track the frequency shifts.  I'll enter the program here, then tie it to the satellite.  The transfer will be bad at first because of the interference, but as it uploads it will clear itself."

          Slowly, Memory's prediction came true.  After twenty minutes, the static had almost completely vanished.  This time, when Vapourtrail reported, it was fully understandable: "How's it going down there?"

          "Still raining," said Dreadmoon automatically.

          "The static is almost fully cleared," said Starscream.  "Remain where you are, though, in case further repairs are required.  I'm going to try to contact Cybertron."  The Seeker tapped the frequency into the console and said, "Stormworld calling Cybertron.  Come in, Shockwave."

          Static hummed for a few seconds, then, "Starscream?"

          "Don't sound so happy to hear from me," Starscream replied, without any real annoyance.  Shockwave _never_ sounded happy to hear from anyone.  "You may regretfully inform Megatron that I'm not dead yet later.  Right now I need the schematics for a space-bridge receiver and the calculations to attach it to Cybertron."

          Shockwave scowled, but the expression was lost behind what few features he used as his face.  Not that Starscream would care; the Seeker seemed to think that he, Shockwave, had nothing better to do than jump at his every whim.  Not that the request was unexpected; it made sense to connect the two worlds, especially if Stormworld was indeed the energy paradise it was supposed to be.  A space-bridge transmitter was already being set up in the Third Sector's watchtower for the Stormworld.  Still, Starscream's tone annoyed him.  "I will get to it when I have a minute," said Shockwave shortly, cutting the connection.  In fact, he had the information ready the day after Starscream left, but he never really liked the Seeker.  Besides, things were much quieter without him around.

          "Good old Shockwave," chuckled Dreadmoon.  "He sounds almost happy now that Cybertron is awake and he's stuck running everything."

          "Impressive work on fixing the satellite," Starscream said, turning to Memory.

          "I strive to be useful.  It helps that the technology has improved since my time with the first expedition," she said with her usual lack of emotion.  "I have work to do in the control room."  With that, she left.

* * *

          Tweaking the base's computers was Memory's pet-project.  They were in perfectly good working order, but could be improved, and besides, she liked working with computers.  It was her function, after all.  She pulled the front panel from the main sensor controls, glanced around to ascertain that she was alone, and set to work.

          Telepathy was an uncommon skill amongst the Decepticons, and Memory didn't technically have it.  The ability to interface with non-sentient computers to control or transfer information with was reasonably common.  As a computer technician, Memory had it.  She just had it to a much greater degree than her tech specs said she did.  Which could possibly be explained to the satisfaction of Starscream and his crew, but she'd already done too much.

          Memory looked along the scarlet cable that currently tied her to the base's system.  'Contact telepathy', she called it; not true telepathy, but once plugged into a system, she might as well have the ability.  Once the hardware was in place, Memory could bend the software to fit it.  Adjusting the communications satellite had been easy.

          Too easy.  She shouldn't have done it, should have let Vapourtrail bring it back down and let the others figure something out.  She shouldn't have helped with the satellite at all.  But Memory couldn't help it; problem solving was too deeply ingrained into her programming for her to stand back and let others do the work.

          The problem was that she needed these people.  The generator at Skyvortex's base was too damaged to function, and she didn't know how to fix it.  Stasis wasn't a real option, either; even stasis took some amount of power, and in time, the drain would terminate her.  Fortunately, it seemed as if Starscream and his crew would be here for, if not permanently, hopefully long enough for Memory to come up with a better solution.

          Going to Cybertron wasn't an option.  She would be recognised and destroyed.

          For better or for worse, Stormworld was her home.  Until a better option presented itself, Memory would continue to make herself useful to the expedition.  Perhaps then they could overlook her… hang-ups.  Of course, if they ever managed to get a look inside her exoskeleton, she was doomed.

          _To be continued…_


	3. If I Be Still The Same

**If I Be Still The Same**

_… What matter where, if I be still the same,.._

* * *

          Vapourtrail looked up as her door opened.  Dreadmoon stepped inside and looked around as if making sure he wasn't followed.  When the door closed behind him, Vapourtrail asked, "What is it?"

          The monitor leaned down and asked, "How are you at hacking computer systems?"

          "Pretty good," admitted Vapourtrail.  "But if you want real results, you should go to Memory."

          Dreadmoon shook his head emphatically.  "I don't trust her abilities."

          "Oh?"

          "Starscream and I checked her records after we found her," said Dreadmoon.  "She's _not_ a hacker.  She's not much more than a minor programmer and data-entry technician.  Either her skills increased exponentially, or she worked _very_ hard at covering her skill at the Science Academy…"  The monitor stopped, running his hands over the sides of his helmet.  "Can you get a full connection to Cybertron from here?"

          "Sure."  Then, considering the monitor's mood said, "Of course, it won't be a secure line.  All information from the satellite is sent through the lab's computers."

          Dreadmoon considered his options.  "I don't think that anyone is using it right now.  Come on."

          Against her better judgement, Vapourtrail followed.  She was interested, in a way, but also rather nervous.  Whatever the monitor was planning, it was trouble.  In any case, she had to follow; Dreadmoon _was_ her superior officer, after all.  He sat her down in front of the computer.  She called up the system, then looked up at him.  "You'll have to tell me what I'm looking for."

          "Starscream," said Dreadmoon.

          After about twenty minutes, Vapourtrail shot Dreadmoon a questioning look.  The monitor smiled grimly.  "You noticed it, too?  How he's not mentioned in the historical files or the War Academy records or anywhere?  I need you to get into his personal file.  The security clearance is too high for me to get through, so I was hoping…"

          "We shouldn't be doing this, Dreadmoon."

          "I have to know," said the monitor.  "He was my friend once, for a little while.  I offered to accompany him on a survey mission, and he pushed me away.  Sometimes he'll accidentally let something slip, some hint, but not often."  Dreadmoon sighed.  "Something terrible happened to him.  I can't help him unless I know what it was."

          Vapourtrail sighed and called up the personnel files screen.  "I'm not so sure he _can_ be helped.  And how do you know his file's not missing like the rest of it?  Great Cybertron, who would have gone through the trouble of _erasing_ him…"

          There was a flash of light and the computer's systems spontaneously disrupted.  "_I_ would."

          The two shuttles turned and found Starscream glaring down at them.  Vapourtrail found her voice first: "_You_?  You erased _yourself_ from the records?.."

          Starscream nodded grimly, but his attention was on the other.  "I don't need your help, Dreadmoon.  I'm _fine_."

          The monitor took a couple steps towards him.  "Starscream…"

          "I _don't need_ your _help_," Starscream repeated, turning back to the door.  "I don't need your worry or concern.  I don't need anyone to take care of me.  You and Megatron would do well to remember that."  He left.  The door hissed shut automatically behind him, but he gave the impression that if could have slammed it, he would have.

          "Can you fix the computer?" Dreadmoon asked after a minute.

          Vapourtrail sighed.  "He just used his null-ray on it.  It should be fine once it wears off."

          They waited fifteen minutes to be sure, then Vapourtrail tried again.  A few seconds later, she scowled.  Dreadmoon looked over.  "What's wrong?"

          "I'm blocked.  The personnel files on Cybertron don't show Starscream's record any more."

          "Erased?"

          The green shuttle tapped a few more keys.  "No.  I can still detect the memory it uses, but I can't access it."

          Dreadmoon nudged her aside to check for himself, then punched the console.  "Blast!  There's no way he could have done that so fast unless…"  He scowled.  "I'm going to have a chat with Memory."

* * *

          She admitted to blocking computer access, at Starscream's command.  Unfortunately, there wasn't anything Dreadmoon could _do_ about it.  Starscream outranked him, no one would be able to get past Memory's blocks, and he had no business snooping into highly Classified files, anyway.  Still, he couldn't just let her get away with it; Starscream was self-destructive enough without outside help.  And, lest he forget, Memory was still a murder suspect.

          He _had_ almost forgotten – they all did, what with setting up their base and the infighting between the warriors.  There was no time before to do a proper investigation before ( and, more importantly, Memory never had a chance to go back ), but now that their initial objectives were complete, Dreadmoon could afford to vanish for a few hours.

          There was no power in Skyvortex's base; they had used up what they brought downloading the files, but doors could be easily forced and lights could be brought in.  Dreadmoon only really needed to search one room, anyway.

          He found it as Starscream and Lightseeker found it, the only differences being that Memory was no longer there.  Dreadmoon attached his lamp to the ceiling and sat down to think.

          The room had one laser-burn on the east wall.  Not surprising given that Skyvortex's crew eventually gave up trying to repair the damages caused by fighting; the rest of the base had random scars.  No real help there.

          He moved to inspect the body-shells, when things became a little more interesting.  Each Decepticon, it appeared, had been terminated by some sort of energy weapon.  Not unusual given the base's history.  But if they all killed each other in a final firefight, why only one burn on the wall?  Were they all that accurate?  Their wounds were similar as well; all had been shot once or twice, and all had fallen on their backs.  Dreadmoon picked one corpse at random to more carefully inspect the damages.

          Three things came immediately to mind.  First was that the warrior had been non-functional _before_ he was shot.  Second was that he had been shot less than one million years ago.  Third was that, given the first two facts, Dreadmoon's sensors had to be malfunctioning.

          The monitor checked himself quickly and realised his senses were indeed accurate.  Which made things more confusing.  The wound the fallen warrior suffered shouldn't have been immediately terminal; there should be evidence of his internal repair systems at work.  And the energy signature was still readable; if he was shot six million years ago, the signature would have dissipated.  The shot didn't kill him.  So what did?

          Dreadmoon checked the others.  In three, the energy signature had dissipated, which didn't mean a lot.  In the fourth, the signature was a little over a thousand years old.  In all cases, they seemed to have died before being shot.  So the shots were a cover, an obvious mode of death so a later searcher wouldn't look too closely.  Dreadmoon went back to the first shell and began a more thorough autopsy.

          Two hours later, he made an interesting discovery.

* * *

          The theory was strange enough that Dreadmoon decided to confront Memory instead of telling any of the others what he was doing.  But he was sure it was right.  Returning to base, he found Memory alone in the computer lab.  He stepped into the room and stood so he blocked the door.  If he was right, she killed at least five warriors.  But none of them knew what he knew.

          As usual, she didn't bother looking up until called.  Without preamble, Dreadmoon stated, "I've been to Skyvortex's base.  Admit to your crimes and there may be mercy for you."  Actually, there probably wouldn't be.  Decepticon thinking held that the guilty invented mercy while those on the side of right strove only for justice.  Dreadmoon was just flexible enough to want more proof than his own guesswork before administering said justice.

          She looked over.  "I killed, yes, but it was for survival.  That is the Decepticon way."

          "You are _not_ a Decepticon."

          Memory held up a forearm, the purple symbol in stark contrast to the gold gauntlet.  "Decepticon science brought me forth.  I have always worn this symbol, and I have always served the Empire."

          Which was true.  Almost.  "Except when you destroyed the rescue party, but then, they'd have destroyed you once they found you out.  I've never seen you transform, Memory," said Dreadmoon, dangerously quiet.

          "It isn't a useful form for this environment," Memory replied evenly.

          Dreadmoon held out his hand, but it was only to aim the laser attached to his gauntlet.  "Or maybe because you removed the transform circuits to make room for your hard drive.  I'm willing to bet that aside from the most basic life-support and mobility functions, that's all you are."

          She took a step back.  "You're crazy."

          "And you're desperate," replied Dreadmoon.  "You picked that form as a joke.  She was a low-level computer technician, but you, _you_ caused her to live up to her name.  Besides, it was reasonably close to your own."  His eyes flashed.  "Care to prove me wrong by transforming, M-03?"

          For an instant, it looked like she was actually going to do it.  The instant passed when one of her tendrils struck at a button, causing an electromesh net to drop on Dreadmoon.  By the time he tore it off, she had vanished.  Of course, while she knew the planet better than any of them and could fly, she wasn't as fast as those that had aircraft transforms.

          Dreadmoon ran to the door, and to his annoyance, bounced off of it.  He hit the door control, and when that was ineffective, tore off the panel and yanked the wires.  That finally worked.  Obviously, she had her escape planned, just in case.  The monitor cursed his own short-sightedness; of _course_ she could get the computer to do whatever she pleased.

          And it pleased her to shut everything down to make good her own escape.  Fortunately, she hadn't set up a jamming field to block the Decepticons' radios.  Within five minutes, the crew managed to meet in the hangar.  Starscream folded his arms and asked, "Well?"

          "This shut-down is a delay tactic set by Memory so that she could get away," said Dreadmoon.  "She's not a Decepticon.  She's not even a Transformer."

          "Get to the point," instructed Razorshift.

          Dreadmoon didn't waste a glare on him.  Turning back to Starscream, he said, "She isn't even Memory, not the one who first came to Stormworld.  She was destroyed and her shell is being used by M-03 – the expedition's Deceptitraan computer."

          The black Seeker spoke again: "That's stupid."

          Starscream waved a hand for silence.  "Megatron mentioned meeting a sentient Deceptitraan on a mission about a year ago.  It's rare for them to become self-aware, though."

          "This one did, and for whatever reason, decided to transfer itself into a Transformer body," said Dreadmoon.  "She's dangerous; being a computer herself, she can control any of our machines.  Us too, I suspect."  _Though why she didn't just hack into my system while the net had me pinned…  She probably just panicked._  "I went back to Skyvortex's base before confronting M-03.  The five who were sent to find out what happened to the first expedition all had tiny holes in the backs of their heads, ones that M-03's tendrils could have made.  I think she did something to their minds, then used their energy to fuel her own hibernation."

          "Could M-03 have destroyed Skyvortex's entire crew?" asked Starscream.

          Dreadmoon nodded slowly.  "It's possible.  She could have secretly reprogrammed random members of the crew for senseless violence, cut off communications with Cybertron, then let isolation and paranoia take care of the rest.  When the rescue team came, she realised that she couldn't go back to Cybertron because she would be quickly discovered and destroyed.  But Skyvortex's base was too damaged to generate power.  So she went into stasis, hoping that another expedition would come so that she could live off of it."

          Unfortunately, it fit.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Starscream said, "All right.  M-03 is too dangerous to let loose.  She probably isn't armed, so if you see her, shoot her down before she can reach you with her tendrils.  Still, no one goes alone.  Shatterwing, Sway, search west.  Razorshift, Vapourtrail, go check Skyvortex's base.  It's the most obvious place for her to go, and the two of you will have the best chance of navigating the station.  If she's not there, search the east.  Dreadmoon and I will try the north."  She might have gone south, but south was just the bluffs and the ocean, and she wasn't a strong enough flyer to cross it.  "The rest of you see if you can get the base back online."

          The search parties were about to take off, when Starscream paused.  "Crowbar, Shrillcry, Lightseeker, Gadget, watch your backs.  We've no guarantee that she ever actually _left_."

* * *

          "Are your sensors picking anything up?"

          "In _this_ weather?" demanded Starscream.  "I can barely see my nosecone in front of my face!"

          It would be useless to point out that Starscream's face was tucked down into his chest as he cruised along in jet-mode.  Unfortunately, his complaint was valid; Stormworld played heck with their scanners.  Motion sensors and radar would be useless if M-03 decided to travel on foot through the jungle, or, worse, decided to stop someplace and wait for the searchers to give up before moving on.  Instead, they had switched to their analyser circuits, hoping to pick up the ton-and-a-half of metal that M-03 represented.  The range wasn't very good, however.  Fortunately, they knew she had to be near the ground.  M-03 wasn't a strong enough flyer to counter the weather or get above the cloud-line.

          "She can't have gone too far," said Dreadmoon, trying to be encouraging.  "Even flying, she can't be very fast."  Starscream's only reply was incoherent grumbling.

          Without warning, the wind picked up enough to knock even Dreadmoon's shuttle-form off course.  "Starscream!" he radioed, concerned.  The Seeker was much lighter than he was, but he was the more skilled flyer, so maybe he would be all right…

          A thin scream tore the air without the benefit of internal radio.  There might have been words, but they were shredded by the wind.  One thing was amply clear – the great Starscream was terrified.

          The sky had gone black; he could only see the Seeker when the lightning flashed and illuminated the silver parts of his hull.  _"We've got to get to the ground!"_

          A crash of thunder threw Dreadmoon off-balance even as the sky was torn by light.  Four bolts smashed into Starscream; Dreadmoon just had time to see the Seeker start into a tailspin before the light faded.  And he would be of no use if he stayed in the air and shared the same fate.  Trusting his radar to guide him to a clearing, the shuttle headed for an area that his senses told him was clear of trees…

          _Splash!_

          Several minutes later, the lake erupted in the shape of Dreadmoon, who flapped his wings once, irrationally, to shake off the water.  "_Starscream!_  Starscream, where are you?"  Remembering that standing in a lake – especially when one was made of metal – was a bad idea during a lightning storm, he jumped to shore.

          Cursing the weather that drowned any tell-tale smoke-trails and lost his words to the wind, Dreadmoon switched on his radio.  "Starscream, can you hear me?"

          There was no answer, nor did Starscream's communicator activate at all – if it did, Dreadmoon could have traced him that way.  Dreadmoon surveyed his surroundings… what he could see in the driving rain, anyway.  To the west were cliffs overshadowing the lake.  Around the lake was a small beach, and the rest was thick jungle.  He knew Starscream had crashed, but he had no idea where.

          The monitor checked his sensors, and scowled.  The lightning in the air interfered with his ability to detect energy signatures, and his own damages had ruined the fine-tuning of his other sensors; he had thought to just look for large chunks of metal like how they were tracking M-03, but that was out of the question.  So.  A search, then.  It would be dangerous from the air, but impossible from the ground.  Dreadmoon stayed in robot-mode for manoeuvrability, and took off.

          He switched to infra-red and, fortunately, he didn't have far to look.  Starscream's crash had cut a small yet obvious swath though the trees about two hundred metres away.  Dreadmoon crossed the space in less than a minute, and landed next to his commander.

          As expected, it wasn't good.  The impact had knocked Starscream back into his robot-mode, and his optics were dark.  His silver paint was scorched in several places where the lightning had torn into him.  Dreadmoon knelt by him, laid a hand on the side of his helmet to see if he could detect an energy signature.  "Starscream?"

          The Seeker's optics flickered.  "I circled half the globe…"

          "What?"

          "I circled half the globe searching for him," Starscream repeated, voice barely a whisper.  "But he was gone."

          _This_ mood, Dreadmoon recognised.  "You're stuck in a recursive memory-loop, Starscream," said Dreadmoon gently.  "You're on the Stormworld.  You were struck by lightning and you crashed."

          "A polar windstorm came up suddenly…" Starscream insisted weakly.

          "A high-energy lightning storm came up suddenly," the monitor corrected.  Speaking of which, the rain from said storm was probably getting into his system, given the damage he'd taken.  Looping the smaller Decepticon's arm over his shoulders, Dreadmoon hauled him to his feet.  "Come on; we've got to get out of this rain."  It had been hard enough to fly the short distance across the forest in the storm; trying to get back to base while carrying another would be impossible.  And even if he switched to shuttle-mode, he had no way of getting Starscream inside.

          The cliffs were nearby.  Dreadmoon half-carried his commander to them, then blasted a serviceable cave out of the rock face.  As an afterthought, he took another shot at a spot higher up, to mark their position.  Then he dragged Starscream inside, and sat down to think.

          Even without the weather, Starscream was in no shape to fly.  Half his relays must have been fused by the lightning, and Dreadmoon wasn't the one to fix that kind of damage.  All he could do was hope the Seeker's damages wouldn't kill him before he could be helped.  Dreadmoon reactivated his communicator, and allowed himself a sigh of relief when he got a voice on the other end: "Stormworld Base, here."

          "Shrillcry, it's Dreadmoon.  A storm caught us by surprise…" – on the other end of the line, the Insecticon snorted.  Dreadmoon continued – "No, a nastier one than usual.  Starscream got blasted out of the sky…"  The monitor quickly detailed the Seeker's damages, and finished with, "We're pinned in the northern cliffs until the storm dies down.  I'll activate my homing beacon so you can find us."

          The engineer's high voice took on a note of concern.  "Are you damaged?"

          "A little waterlogged," he admitted.  He wasn't going to admit crashing into the lake, however.  He traded good-byes with the Insecticon, and switched off his radio to wait.

          Starscream was still sitting where Dreadmoon had left him, as if he had much choice in the matter.  His eyes were a little brighter, but he was still whispering to himself: "A polar windstorm came up suddenly…  I circled half the globe searching for him, but he was gone."

          The monitor settled himself by his commander.  "Shh.  Save your energy."

          "I circled half the globe," Starscream insisted.  "I should have tried harder, should have searched until my energy ran out, but I ran…"

          He obviously wasn't about to settle down.  Dreadmoon decided to just let Starscream ride out the loop.  "Who did you lose?"

          "Skyfire…"

* * *

          He searched only half the globe, but only because his fuel was running low and he had no way to replenish himself.  Not on a pre-industrial world.  And Skyfire with his larger transform had been the one carrying all the equipment.  Reluctantly, Starscream turned his back on the blue world and tried to trace his way back to Cybertron.

          Somehow he made it back to his planet, but he realised he wasn't going to make a nice landing.  Or a landing at all; his fuel was gone, and he was going to crash.

          And Starscream found he didn't care.

          _Failed.  I've failed you, Skyfire, friend, companion.  I should have kept searching, but I ran.  I've abandoned you.  I'm sorry…_

          He didn't remember the crash itself.  There was just blankness, scattering only when someone shook him.  Not that he was coherent.  "Abandoned…  failed…  lost…"

          "Name and function?"

          It was a voice that cut through the haze of despair and insisted on answers.  Still struggling towards consciousness, he managed to say, "Star… scream."

          "Function?"

          "Failed… lost… lost…"

          There were other voices.  One said, "He's a neutral.  Don't bother with him."

          "He survived that crash; he deserves consideration," said the first voice.   Then, a bit further away, as if the speaker stood up, Starscream heard, "Repair him."

          While always vaguely aware, Starscream didn't return to full consciousness until the second day of his repairs.  A strange, sepulchral voice intoned, "He has awakened," and a tall, silver robot stepped into his field of vision.

          Eyes like twin fires bored into Starscream's own as the silver one waited.  Eventually, the Seeker managed a word: "Why?"

          The silver one's face showed confusion, just for an instant; the question was unexpected.  "I am Megatron," he said, and Starscream recognised the voice that had ordered his repairs.  "Leader of the Decepticons.  We always welcome new recruits and, frankly, Seekers are hard to come by in this era."

          Which was true.  It was an age of peace, and warrior-types were being phased out by the current establishment.  Starscream's knowledge of the subject was limited – he was a scientist; politics never really caught his interest.  "You… want me to join you?"

          "Yes."

          Consideration was barely necessary.  Where else could he go?

          Starscream threw himself into his new life.  No one asked him who he was or why he crashed into Decepticon territory those months ago, leaving him free to become whatever he wanted.

          And he _knew_ what he wanted.

          The Seeker flew through the Cybertron War Academy tests as easily as he flew through the air, defeating simulations with almost embarrassing ease.  He did even better once he was given a _real_ tactical assignment; someone who had nothing to lose didn't fear destruction.

          In the years to follow, Starscream tore his way up the ranks of the Decepticon army, becoming more and more a skilled warrior, and less and less the scientist he had been.  In fact, if anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed how methodically, how _scientifically_ he erased his former life, slowly becoming the opposite of what he once was.

          It wasn't all that difficult, really.  He did have a role-model, after all.

          Starscream looked up to his commander with an adoration that was almost worship, and, for his part, Megatron probably enjoyed the attention.  Everything the Seeker did – every campaign fought, every opponent defeated – was done for Megatron, and he lived for the warlord's scant praise.  But Starscream knew he did well, because in time he became the Air Commander of the Decepticon Battle Fleet, second in command of the army, and heir apparent to the Empire.  Even Shockwave and Soundwave, who had been loyal lieutenants since the faction began, couldn't claim such honours.

          The Cybertronian Wars raged, back and forth, back and forth, both sides winning their own peace in their own fashions, only for the other side to rise up and defeat them.  Once, when this happened and the Decepticons were forced to retreat, Starscream was left behind…

          He was prepared to die, but the Autobots wouldn't terminate him.  That was the Decepticon way, he was told.  Instead, as something was plugged into the back of his head and his mind drained away, he heard, "The records say he was a scientist.  Perhaps there's hope for him, if we can bring that to the forefront again…"

          Starscream struggled.  Later he wished he had listened to the Autobot's words more carefully.  They were the last sounds he was to hear for a long time.

          Something was wrong, either in the Autobot equipment or within his own programming, because he didn't enter stasis-mode.  Within the Autobot mind-prison, Starscream was very, horribly awake.  It wasn't as if he was floating in a dark void, for he had no body to feel the sensation of floating, and he had no eyes to see the darkness.  He was alone, more alone than he had been before he met Skyfire, and even more alone than when he gave the great white jet up for dead.

          He found it somewhat interesting at first, his old scientific curiousity rising up to examine this strange new world he was trapped in, testing its limits, but the total sensory deprivation soon started to affect him.  There was nothing here but his mind, his thoughts, and his memories.  To keep himself occupied, Starscream tried to immerse himself in his memories.  There was no relief there.  He had spent too long burying them to want to face them here, alone in the dark.

          Drawing into himself, at first he thought, _Megatron will come for me.  As soon as he can, he'll come back._

          Later he thought, _Is this how the Autobots intend to reprogram me?  Please, don't leave me like this!  Megatron, help me!_

          Later, _They've forgotten about me._

          Later, _They aren't coming back.  He isn't coming back.  I've been abandoned._

          Later, _Let me die.  I can't take this any more.  Please, let me die._

          Then, _I won't die._

          And, _I will find a way out of this!  I will escape!_

          _And when I do, I'll tear them to shreds._

          Rescue did come, finally, but it came far too late for Starscream to be saved.

          Suddenly, his consciousness flowed back into his body.  Strong hands supported him, helped him step off the dais where his chassis had been stored, and Starscream realised he could see again.  Specifically, he saw a familiar silver form, who had the gall to look concerned.  Starscream broke away from those who were holding him and threw himself at Megatron with an incoherent shout, hands reaching for his commander's throat…

          Even caught off-guard, Megatron still managed to ward off the attack.  "I'm not an Autobot, you fool!  Seekers, grab him!"

          Starscream was roughly pulled back.  He tried to fight at first, but reason quickly took over and he stopped, instead summing up the situation.  Megatron stood back, glaring at him indignantly.  Soundwave stood nearby, probably the one who had freed his mind.  The two who held him, Starscream didn't recognise.  They were Seekers like himself, one pale blue, the other jet black.

          He relaxed slightly in the grip of the others and matched looks with his commander, steel for steel.  _Not yet,_ he thought.  _Not simple destruction.  Too easy.  Too clean.  I want you to suffer._

          Megatron signalled for the others to let him go and said, not entirely warmly, "Welcome back, Starscream."

          "I knew you would come back for me, _Lea_der."

          If Megatron noticed an unfamiliar rasp in Starscream's voice, he made no sign.

* * *

          "… erased my records as soon as I had a spare minute," said Starscream, still whispering, trying to conserve what little energy he still had.  "The Autobots might have just destroyed me if I was just another warrior, wouldn't have tried to… _reprogram_ me.  Megatron was furious, of course…"

          "Shh," Dreadmoon said again, patting Starscream's wing.  "Sounds like you shook off that loop, at least."

          "Don't 'shh' me; I outrank you," Starscream protested, but the edge was lost to his weakness.  "That's how I tried to get back at Megatron…  Without his position, he's nothing.  I know…  I know and he hates me for it.  Rather be first on Earth than second in the Empire…  He abandoned me…  Can't forgive him…  Can't forgive me…  Should have kept searching…"

          Around and around and around, and the cycle of abandonment, oblivion, rescue, and betrayal were the same.  Great Cybertron, he had _known_ something happened to Starscream to unbalance him, but he didn't expect so _much_ of it.  He had heard a few things about Skyfire and knew Starscream hated stasis, but…  "I think I understand now.  It's okay…"

          Starscream groaned, leaning his head against the wall behind him.  "It's _not_ okay.  Great Cybertron, sometimes I start believing that I never left the mind-prison, that I'd finally gone insane and dreamed it all…  Or that _I_ crashed on Earth so long ago, that _I_ was buried in the snow and I'm still in hibernation…"

          The monitor caught Starscream's hand between both of his own.  "This is real.  _I'm_ real.  You're not dreaming."

          "I _told_ you to stay on Cybertron.  I can't risk you… risk _that_… again…"

          "Chirp, chirp!  Nice to see you boys had the sense to get out of the weather."

          "Shrillcry!" exclaimed Dreadmoon.  "Has the rain stopped?"

          "Are you kidding?  It just let up a bit," chirruped the mantis, perched on the lip of the cave.  "Is it safe to move him?"

          "I think so," said Dreadmoon, gathering up Starscream, which wasn't particularly easy.  Certainly the monitor was strong enough to lift him, but the Seeker's wings got in the way.  It wasn't a terribly graceful flight, but the three managed to get back to base.

* * *

          His injuries were minor, so as soon as his circuits were dried off and the scratches in his chassis repaired, Dreadmoon was duly kicked out of the repair bay.  He considered protesting, but decided against it.  Starscream would be fine, and Dreadmoon would just be in the way if he stayed.  So he wandered back up to the control room.

          About ten minutes later, Razorshift and Vapourtrail returned from their search, unceremoniously carrying M-03 between them.  Dreadmoon radioed Shatterwing and Sway to return, then went to the hangar to deal with the others.

          "He was right; she ran back to Skyvortex's base," said Razorshift.  "Not that there was anywhere else for her to go, really."

          "Is she offline?" asked Dreadmoon.

          "No," replied the Seeker.  "Just stunned.  Shockwave usually wanted his prisoners functional, provided it wasn't too risky.  I just phased and shorted her."

          Dreadmoon considered reminding him that the orders were of the 'shoot on sight' variety, but decided against it.  A live prisoner could be killed easily enough; a dead one couldn't be brought back to life.  And there were still questions he wanted answered.  "Take her to the brig," the monitor said eventually.  "But make sure that there are absolutely no electrical systems within her reach, especially in the locking mechanism.  Tear out the wiring in the deck plates if you have to, just make sure she can't tap into the ship."  Razorshift nodded, and he and Vapourtrail carried their prisoner into the station.

          _To be continued…_


	4. All But Less Than He

**All But Less than He**

_…And what I should be, all but less than he  
Whom thunder hath made greater?…_

* * *

          Starscream stood on the bluff, looking out over his domain.  For once it wasn't raining, but the clouds were still thick and dark above him, stretching as far as he could see.  It was almost as if a great violet dome spread over the world, soft and smothering and heavy…

          The Seeker shook those thoughts aside.  Most jets were at least mildly claustrophobic, but this was ridiculous.  As if to prove to himself that the sky was still his, Starscream threw himself off the cliff, shifting as he fell, to pull up just before he hit the waves below.  He arced into a steep climb, smashing through the clouds, temporarily scattering them, reminding the world and himself just _who_ ruled the skies.

          The top layer of the clouds exploded outwards as Starscream ripped through them and into the brilliant sunshine.  Nothing could be seen but the sky above and the purple carpet of clouds below.  Even with all of space around him, Starscream still couldn't shake his feelings of unease.

          It annoyed him.  Things were finally coming together.  There had been problems: The weather, assorted crewmembers making general nuisances of themselves, the detail that they were still going through more energon than they should be ( it didn't matter, not here, but it still annoyed him ), M-03 turning out to be a sentient killer Deceptitraan… the fact that he'd admitted to some things that he'd have preferred to keep secret.  At least Dreadmoon hadn't tried to ask him any more questions since then.  Starscream didn't mind the fact that someone, _someone_ was finally loyal to him, but the monitor could be downright stifling in his concern.  As if Starscream needed someone to look after him!

          _Everything is fine,_ he told himself sternly, twisting in the air to dive again.  _The satellite works.  The crew have been behaving themselves.  Once we get the space-bridge working, we'll be able to import the parts needed to set up a proper energon factory, and I'll be able to declare Stormworld conquered and rejoin the main force on Earth._

          _So why do I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?_

          Not feeling much better for his flight, Starscream dove back through the clouds and went back to headquarters.  Dreadmoon waved him over when he entered the control room.  "Starscream!  Are you any good at space-bridge calculations?"

          "Are you kidding?  No one understands hyperspatial mathematics except Shockwave, and I think _he_ fudges it half the time," Starscream said, leaning over Dreadmoon's shoulder to look at the screen display.  "Stuck?"

          Dreadmoon snorted.  "It always seems to make sense while Shockwave's explaining it, but the second I try the calculations on my own, my hard drive freezes.  I've been tempted just to take a break and chart a hyperbola matrix or something just to prove that I still have basic math skills."  He sighed.  "Should I just give in and ask him for help, or do you want to take a shot at it?"

          "In theory, all the information should be there," said Starscream, tapping at the console.  "We just need to take Shockwave's data and compare it to our astrometric surveys to find the ideal location for the space-bridge receiver…"  He trailed off.

          The monitor waited what he determined to be a tactful amount of time before saying, "You're stuck."

          "I'm not stuck."

          "You're stuck.  Don't worry; Vapourtrail couldn't get her head around it, Lightseeker asked if the whole thing was a joke, and Shrillcry accused me of making it up as I went along," smiled Dreadmoon.  "I'll see if I can convince Shockwave to look over our information and do the calculations himself."  The Operations Commander would be annoyed at the extra work, but would balance that against the smugness of proving himself smarter than the Stormworlders.

          Dreadmoon went to another console, leaving Starscream to curse at the hyperspatial calculations.  After a few minutes, he pulled the front panel off the computer, fiddled with it, and tried the call again.  "Erm, Starscream…"

          "What?"

          "Our long-range communications system is fritzing."

          "Oh, for the…  Let me see that."  Dreadmoon stepped aside so Starscream could look at the computer himself.  "Nothing _looks_ wrong," he grumbled after a minute.  "And I can contact the satellite, but it can't contact Cybertron.  When did we last use it?"

          Dreadmoon quickly checked the logs.  "Twenty-one point three hours ago."

          And it could have happened anywhere between then and now.  "Find Vapourtrail and tell her to go check it out.  I'll double-check the system down here."

          The monitor started out, then paused and turned.  "M-03 was the one who programmed the satellite.  Could she have..?"

          "There's no way for her to have tapped the system from the brig, and no reason to have put a timed destruction device in it," said Starscream.  "Get going."

* * *

          There was something in the sky…

          It would be impossible to describe what he saw, for he didn't truly see.  Nor hear, nor smell, nor taste, nor touch.  It could be said that he _felt_ and, perhaps more importantly, that he _recognised_.  These things took time.

          He was patient, but only because he had never learned impatience.

          He wasn't alone.  A great… _something_ had crept up on the tempest-world, then engulfed it.  And with this strange shadow came… others.

          At first, he thought they might be others like himself ( certainly Stormworld would have been a perfect place for such things ) but he quickly learned different.  Still, he was nothing if not adaptable.

          In a way, he had learned from the best…

* * *

          Starscream didn't think it was possible that M-03 was jamming their signals, but Dreadmoon didn't want to overlook even the most remote possibility.  Vapourtrail had checked the satellite herself and reported that everything was in working order; at least, she couldn't find any problems.  More disturbing was the fact that her own radio couldn't reach Cybertron, either ( the satellite was only to cut through the atmospheric interference; it was the base's communicator that was the actual radio. )

          Which meant that it probably wasn't M-03's doing.  Still, communications black-out was the first thing that happened before Skyvortex's crew went insane, and M-03 was there when it happened so she might at least have some sort of useful information.  Dreadmoon stepped into the brig, but kept well away from the bars of the cell.  Without preamble, he said, "We can't contact Cybertron."

          _"What?"_  M-03 ran to the bars, her usual calm demeanour shattered.  "That's how it started!  Communications failure, then madness!"

          Dreadmoon stayed back.  "Were there any other signs?"

          "I don't know.  There might have been minor ones, but by the time I awoke to sentience, Skyvortex's people were already going insane.  I replaced Memory during the confusion; all I know of the earlier situation, I know through her memories – and since she was low-ranking, she knew very little."

          The monitor tilted his head slightly, confused.  "You became sentient while everyone else was going insane?  Not before?"

          M-03 waved her hands in frustration.  "You think there's a connection?  Suddenly I'm self-aware and everyone else is trying to kill each other!  If this ship still flies, we've got to get off of this planet!"

          "We can't leave," Dreadmoon countered.  "It might be a microbe or something else communicable that causes Stormworld madness, and we don't want to infect the rest of Cybertron.  Besides, the answers will be here."

          _"Decepticons are idiots!"_ howled M-03.  "Please, Dreadmoon!  You were right about some things; I _did_ destroy Memory so that I could use her shell, and I killed the five of the rescue party to use their energy for my own hibernation, but that was all for survival!  I could have destroyed you when I first escaped, I could have killed you all, but I didn't!  I've fought too hard to die insane!  Dreadmoon…"

          The monitor snapped, "What killed Skyvortex's crew?"

          "I don't know!" wailed M-03.  "_I don't know!_  I just know it's all happening again!"

* * *

          The lights in the control room flickered and one console erupted in a shower of sparks.  Starscream turned, weapons ready, but relaxed when he recognised the smoky form of Razorshift-in-phase.  Not that he was pleased.  "If this isn't important, warrior, you're fixing that."

          Razorshift's outline sharpened and filled in, and he saluted out of habit.  "It _is_ important.  It's Lightseeker… or, at least I _think_ it's her.  The colours seem right and there's not much…"

          With a growing feeling of dread, Starscream asked, "What happened to her, Razorshift?"

          "She's dead.  At least I'm pretty sure it's her…"

* * *

          It was worse than he thought.  Given Razorshift's sketchy report, Starscream had expected some pretty severe mutilations.  He didn't expect that the Insecticon would be spread throughout an entire hall – the largest piece wasn't much bigger than his hand.  Razorshift had been right; it was Lightseeker.  The pale green and gray metal might have belonged to Vapourtrail, but a quick scan of the debris proved it to be the alloy of a Coleop Insecticon shell.

          Starscream's sensors swept the corridor, and he scowled.  "No residual energy readings, except her own.  She's been dead for about four hours."  Not long enough for anyone to notice her missing, not with a crew so thinly spread.

          The black Seeker picked up one of the larger bits of metal.  "No shear lines or burn-marks on the edges, either.  She was…"  Razorshift trailed off, but his training kicked in again.  "She was torn apart.  Sir."  This wasn't his kind of situation.  Razorshift was designed to shoot enemies out of the air, not trip over bodies in disused corridors.

          "That's no help.  Any of us are strong enough to do so.  Except maybe Gadget," Starscream corrected.  He stood up.  "Cordon this area off until further notice.  I'll send Dreadmoon down to have a look at the crime scene; he's had some experience with this sort of investigation."

          "How do you know Dreadmoon didn't do it?"

          "How do I know _you_ didn't?" Starscream countered, not maliciously.  Razorshift's paranoia was valid.  "I'm going to go check the security logs."

* * *

          M-03 looked up in surprise when the cell door opened and was held that way by Dreadmoon.  "Get up," he said quietly.  "I don't trust you, but I do believe you."

          She rose to her feet, but didn't move to leave.  "What changed your mind?"

          "Lightseeker is offline.  Destroyed.  You're the only one who couldn't have done it.  Everyone else had the opportunity."

          M-03 stepped forward, but stopped.  "How do I know _you_ didn't destroy her?"

          The monitor opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, considering.  Finally he said, "As the only one who couldn't have done it and as the only one with experience on Stormworld, you would probably be the greatest threat to whoever _did_ do it.  If I wanted to destroy you, I would have shot you from across the room rather than coming close."

          It sounded logical enough, but…  "How do I know that Lightseeker is dead at all?"

          Her paranoia was rational enough.  Dreadmoon considered his options, found one, and didn't like it.  "You have contact telepathy, correct?  You can tap into any machine and extract what you want?"  M-03 nodded.  Dreadmoon continued, "I don't trust you, but I need you.  Reach into my mind; you'll know that I'm telling the truth."

          "No.  No, the offer alone is enough," said M-03 eventually.  "I'll help you."

          "Thank you."  Dreadmoon stepped back out of the doorway, motioning for the other to follow.  "I could take you to the crime scene, but I'm not sure what you could get out of it.  There were no cameras in that corridor and most of us would be strong enough to… destroy the body as much as it was."  The moth had been literally torn apart.  Normally Dreadmoon wasn't disturbed by the husks of the dead; they were just collections of parts, after all, no worse than looking at a scrap heap.  Besides, hadn't he been a warrior for almost two million years prior to taking on more administrative duties?  He had _caused_ enough destruction in his time.  One more body shouldn't worry him.

          But… this was _different_.  Lightseeker wore the Decepticon symbol, she worked for the cause, but she was no warrior.  She was a scientist, and should have had a long, uneventful existence.  Besides, Dreadmoon liked the chipper little Insecticon.  She was honestly helpful, which was a hard quality to find in the Decepticon ranks.

          M-03, lost in thoughts of her own, suddenly asked, "Has her body been smelted yet?"

          "Pardon?  No."

          "Then I might have a chance," said M-03.  "Her brain is still a computer, even if her life is extinguished.  If there's enough of her hard drive left, if I can access her last memories…  If she knows who destroyed her, I will as well."

* * *

          "Starscream!"

          The Seeker turned at Dreadmoon's voice and scowled.  "Why did you release M-03?"

          "I needed her help investigating Lightseeker's death," explained the monitor, moving slightly to place himself between his commander and the Deceptitraan.  "She was able to tap into Lightseeker's hard drive and access her memories.  Starscream, she was killed by Shatterwing."

          _"Shatterwing?"_  The quiet one.  Of course.  _Isn't it always the one you least suspect?_ Starscream thought, then, _Frankly, I didn't have any specific suspect in mind._  "How do I know she's telling the truth?"

          Dreadmoon made an exasperated noise.  "What would she gain by lying?  Besides, she was locked up; she _couldn't_ have done it herself!"

          "I have killed, true," said M-03.  "But I did not harm the Insecticon or any other in your crew."

          "All right, all right!" shouted Starscream.  "I'll believe you."  He reached over to a computer console and called up the duty roster.  "Shatterwing is on cartography duty in the west.  He signed out properly, so he can't have totally snapped.  Still, he could have signed out, killed Lightseeker, then left.  He must know we've found her by now, though he has no reason to think we suspect him.  Shift's over in ninety minutes.  We'll wait for him to return…  No.  I don't want him running loose; he might attack one of the others on shift.  I'll send out a general recall; once he returns, we'll grab him."

          "He might not return," said Dreadmoon quietly after Starscream sent the signal.

          Starscream snorted.  "Then we'll trace him through his communicator.  Besides, where does he have to go?  If he wants to refuel, he has to come back."

          "Shatterwing is suicidal," Dreadmoon reminded him.  "He joined the Cybertronian Guard to die, but then Cybertron went into stasis and he never had a chance to.  So he came here."

          "So when did he decide to become homicidal as well?" challenged Starscream.

          M-03 said, "The madness of Stormworld, commander.  That which decimated Skyvortex's crew.  If he has it, his actions cannot be predicted."

          _"But what is the 'madness of Stormworld'?"_ Starscream demanded.  "Skyvortex had no idea, and he was much better equipped to look for an answer.  Certainly the place is ugly and depressing, but it shouldn't have that kind of effect on us!  I've read the first expedition's reports so many times I could set them to music, and they could find _nothing_; not weird energy fields, not radiation, not microbes, not sabotage, not _anything_!  Great Cybertron, by the end, they were starting to think the planet was…"

          The Seeker's words were cut off by his own scream.  His body arched back as if electrocuted, sending him crashing to the floor.

          Dreadmoon and M-03 were by him in seconds, trying to quiet his thrashing, when Starscream went suddenly limp, light gone from his optics.

* * *

          Starscream tried as best he could to quell his panic and think rationally, but it wasn't easy.  Whatever hit him had struck with the full force of a storm, concentrated into one bolt.  Now he couldn't see or hear or feel his body…

          No, he could.  The shock had driven rational thought from him, but now he realised that he knew the strangely claustrophobic feeling of being trapped within himself – Starscream was in stasis-mode.

          He hated stasis.  Most Transformers simply sank into a peaceful coma while their systems went into power-save mode, but for reasons he didn't know, he didn't.  Starscream's mind was _always_ conscious, even when his body wasn't.  Yes, there had been instances of proper oblivion, but only in extreme circumstances.  He was infinitely glad that he was damaged badly enough when the Decepticon ship crashed on Earth that he was unconscious for the four million year hibernation.

          So now his body slept and he was trapped in it.  He hoped he didn't have long to wait.  Last time he slipped into stasis-mode, he got caught in a twisted memory-loop and had thought himself buried under ice.  _This_ time, he decided, he would focus on the present…

          It was about then that Starscream realised he wasn't alone.

          There was no sight here, but he felt the other's smile.  There was no sound, but the other whispered: _Remember meee?_

          "Mourningstar."  Then it sunk in.  "_Mourningstar!_  But… but…  _I destroyed you!_"  Quite thoroughly, he had thought.  Getting one's head blown off by Megatron's gun-mode was usually enough to stop anyone.

          _Destroyyyed?_ asked the mocking whisper.  _What is death when one has the will to surviiive?_

_          Verrry nasssty what you did to meee, shooting me like that.  Not neeearly as nasty as what you did to my fellow Huntersss or to my creator Frosssttalon._  The Hunter's pattern swirled around Starscream, binding him.  _It took me a long time to realissse what had happened to meee, but I figured it out.  Actually, I thought you figured it ouuut, once or twiiice._

          "The poltergeist effects," said Starscream, falling back on a human word.  Of course, if non-corporeal Mourningstar wanted to affect the physical world, he had to get physical energy from somewhere… like from Starscream's crew.  Which was why they were going through more energon than expected – Mourningstar was draining them to pull his little tricks.

          Starscream tried to lash out, but Mourningstar's essence settled around him like a shroud, smothering his will.  He tried to push the intruder away, but it was like trying to fight smoke.  _We cannot both exist, Starscreeeam.  You know that._

          He did.  Mourningstar was not a clone, but a being designed directly from Starscream's mental patterns.  Starscream couldn't stand the thought of not being unique, and as such, neither could Mourningstar.  "What do you want?"

          Mourningstar's laugh shuddered through Starscream.  _Your body, my prototype.  Mine was destroyyyed.  I considered being remade, but my true form is too recogniiisable.  So I will assume yourrr form and identity._

          "You can't _do_ that!" howled Starscream.  He might as well have been shouting into a hurricane.  "You'll be found out!  You might be based on me, but you'll never _be_ me!"

          _So who wants to beee you?_ asked Mourningstar.

          "Dreadmoon and the others will destroy you!"

          The Hunter's chuckle manifested as cool, oily pressure: _What makes you think that theyyy will be themselllves?_

* * *

          "He still functions."

          "I know that; I've got sensors, too," snapped Dreadmoon.  Still, it was good to hear it from an unbiased source.  And, though it was irrational, he shook the Seeker slightly and commanded, "Starscream!  Snap out of it!"

          M-03 bit back a sigh.  "He can't hear you.  He's in stasis-mode."

          "Can you pull him out of it?"

          "Maybe," she admitted, leaning closer to let a cable tap into Starscream's system.

          It was like a wall reared up and hit her in the face.  M-03 visibly recoiled, breaking the connection.  "He's…  He's blocking me," she managed after a minute.  "I don't know how.  It should be impossible…"

* * *

          "What do you mean?" shouted Starscream, knowing full well that shouting would do no good, but that he had to do _something_.  "What have you done to my people?"

          _I?  Iii will do nothiiing.  Though,_ whispered Mourningstar, _I could take any of their bodies easilyyy; I practiccced on Cybertron._  He paused, considering.  _I might like to take the form of your seconnnd instead.  He is a pretty creaturrre, and I can alwaaays destroy you rather than possess you…_

          "If you so much as give Dreadmoon a bad look, I'll…"

          The Hunter's delighted laugh shimmered in the air.  _So protective of one you won't even acknowledge aloud as a friennnd.  But thennn, it's not like you've had much luck with friendsss, and it's been such a long time since you took a compannnion…_

          Starscream snarled.  "It's me you want.  Leave him out of this."

          _Very true.  Very wellll._  The air sighed, but brightened.  _But Iii need do nothing to your friennnd.  Do you think you are alone on this world?  Not all life is visible, Starscreeeam.  Certainly you felt their presennnce?  They riiide the lightning._

          He did, now that he thought about it.  The strangely claustrophobic feeling he felt as he surveyed the sky, the strange feeling of being watched, but he had dismissed it, thinking himself a victim of stress.  Lightseeker might have been able to tell them more… which was why she was targeted for destruction.

          _A wassste,_ sighed Mourningstar.  _The lossss of a perfectly good body.  Unfortunately, with her skills, she might have detected the Whisssperers.  She could detect meee, though she didn't know it; she thought Iii was you._

_          The Whisperers have promised to leave your body to meee if I help them take your crew.  Now, then, stop your struggling.  I am a Hunter; I am you, but betterrr.  You can't win._

          The mental vice tightened.  Starscream was near panic; he only defeated Mourningstar the first time because he had help.  Alone, he had no chance against a Hunter; Mourningstar was stronger, faster, more powerful…

          Starscream paused.  _Physically_, Mourningstar was his superior.  Here, in the mind, they were even.  They were, in the end, the same person…

          … Or were they?

          The Seeker gathered his will and lashed out, scattering the Hunter's essence.  There _were_ differences.  Mourningstar was him, yes, but… younger.  When Frosttalon created his Hunters, he stripped them down to their core personas so that he could bend them to his will.  Mourningstar hadn't Starscream's experience, hadn't remade himself from the ashes of betrayals and losses and defeats, hadn't been forced to hold on to his sanity for thousands of years of total sensory-deprivation…

          Their will to survive was equal, but only Starscream had actually been forced to test his resolve.  The smoky pressure that was Mourningstar dispersed into the void with a thin wail.

* * *

          Suddenly conscious, Starscream sat up and immediately regretted it when his stabilizers complained and set his head spinning.  Two sets of hands caught him and helped him to his feet.  "Dreadmoon?  M-03?"  _At least, please let it be them…_

          "I'm here, Starscream.  What happened?"

          Running on the assumption that a malevolent non-corporeal intelligence couldn't fake Dreadmoon's usually annoying concern, Starscream said, "Mourningstar was here."

          Dreadmoon knew the story.  "Mourningstar is dead."

          "He survived.  Somehow his mind managed to survive.  I chased him off…  Too much to hope that I destroyed him this time…"  Starscream groaned and would have collapsed if the other two still weren't holding him.

          The monitor and the computer engineer exchanged glances: _There's no such thing as ghosts.  Paranoia was one of the symptoms of the madness that destroyed Skyvortex's crew._

          The Seeker glared at them.  "I saw that look.  I'm not losing my mind.  Despite the destruction of his physical body, Mourningstar's mind has managed to survive as a disembodied intelligence.  I don't know how."  Starscream paused to gather his thoughts.  "There's something out there, in the storm; some sort of energy creatures that Mourningstar calls the 'Whisperers'.  They're what destroyed the first expedition.  Mourningstar befriended them.  Because he's non-corporeal himself, he was of no use to them.  They need physical bodies if they want to affect the physical world."

          "Bodily possession," murmured M-03.  "So why haven't they taken us all yet?  Walls couldn't stop them."

          "They ride the lightning," Starscream explained.  "That's how the Whisperers can get into Transformer systems.  Shatterwing must have been struck."

          "That's better than it could be, then," said Dreadmoon.  "Crowbar, Gadget, Shrillcry, and M-03 wouldn't have had a chance to be struck, since they're rarely outside.  Same with Lightseeker; they couldn't just possess her to get her out of the way because they'd never have a chance.  That leaves you, Razorshift, Vapourtrail, Sway, and, unfortunately, me."

          Starscream chuckled grimly.  "Not me; Mourningstar wanted me for himself.  There's an easy way to find out if anyone else might be possessed, though."  He activated his radio.  "Starscream to Crowbar.  Has anyone been in for repairs in the last, hmm, five days?"

          The radio responded, "Yes."

          Biting back a groan, Starscream tried, "Who were they and what damages were caused them?"

          "Vapourtrail; had a few scratches on her gauntlets.  Shatterwing; burns on his shoulder carapace.  Shrillcry; dropped a box on her foot.  Happy?"

          "Ecstatic."  He closed the connection.  "There.  At least we know there isn't anyone else.  We'll need to come up with a way to block them or stop them.  If Shatterwing comes back, we might be able to figure out a way to get the Whisperer out of him."

          Silence fell for a few moments, Starscream, Dreadmoon, and M-03 each lost in their own thoughts.  Eventually Dreadmoon said, "It doesn't have to be a Transformer system, does it?  They could take over any piece of machinery, right?"

          "Probably," said Starscream slowly.  "No reason that they couldn't."  Then, reluctantly, "Why?"

          Dreadmoon twisted his hand together nervously.  "The base gets its power through a lightning rod…"

          Down the hall, something exploded, causing the station to rock.  Breaking into a run, the others close at his heels, Starscream demanded, "You just _had_ to say that, didn't you!?"

          _To be continued…_


	5. Will Not Drive Us Hence

**Will Not Drive Us Hence**

… Here at least

We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built  
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:…

* * *

          "Blast it, why couldn't you have thought of that five minutes ago!?"

          "Because I was rather preoccupied with you being flat on your back and possessed by a malevolent non-corporeal intelligence!"

          "Don't remind me!" Starscream shot back.  _Why does it always happen like this?_ Starscream demanded internally.  _Nothing happens until someone mentions something nasty that could happen, which then proceeds to happen!_  In this case, Dreadmoon had asked if the alien Whisperers could possess the Stormworld base through the lightning rod that gave the station power.  Apparently they could.

          Crowbar, Gadget, and Shrillcry were already in the generator room, frantically trying to shut off the intake, when Starscream, Dreadmoon, and M-03 arrived.  Razorshift and Sway arrived a few seconds later.  Shatterwing was absent, but being himself possessed by a Whisperer, it was expected.

          "What's happening?" demanded Sway.

          Shrillcry yanked a lever to no obvious effect.  "Some sort of overload!  We can't stop it before the whole generator blows!"

          Starscream ran to a console and tried to shunt the power to the overflows.  "It's worse than that.  The madness that killed Skyvortex's crew was brought on by non-corporeal aliens that ride the lightning to get into mechanical systems.  If the generator blows, if we're caught in the explosion…  What are the rest of you doing here?  If you can't make yourselves useful, get out of range!"

          "Maybe we can throw this thing into reverse, blast your critters out!" yelled Shrillcry.

          Crowbar shielded his optics from the lights.  "Will that work?"

          "Who knows?  We've got to do _something_!"

          Starscream's sensors detected the surge an instant before the generator's instruments did.  "It's going to…"

          The generator exploded in an blast of light and metal before Starscream could attempt to stop it with his null-ray, sending everyone diving for cover.  Faster than the Insecticon, Razorshift threw Shrillcry out of the way, then phased to let the blast pass harmlessly through him.  Crowbar was knocked to the ground when a large piece of shrapnel drove into his back.  Another piece nearly sheared Starscream's left wing off.  Power arced from the machine, driving electric talons into Sway.

          The dragonfly screamed as the circuit was made, but it wasn't pain that made her cry out.  Something was in the electric arc, something that was tearing into her mind even as the current tore through her carapace.  _I don't deserve this!  A warrior should die in battle!  I hope you're sorry you sent me here, Kickback, you creep!.._

          The explosion was finished in seconds, but chaos and noise still reigned.  Most of the noise was coming from Sway, thrashing on the ground as if to fend off an invisible enemy and keening fit to wake the dead.  Freeing himself from a pile of rubble, Starscream yelled, "Someone stop her before she screams the place apart!"  Which, given Sway's strange voice, was entirely possible.  She could kick in harmonics that could make her opponent feel as if they would rattle apart.

          "The Whisperers ride electricity!" Dreadmoon shouted, trying to be heard above the dragonfly's wail.  "If anyone else was hit…"

          Starscream roughly grabbed M-03 by her arm and hauled her to her feet.  "She seems to be fighting it; would it be possible for you to remove the Whisperer from her mind?"

          The engineer tried to twist away.  "If I did, it would take _me_!"

          _"Then pull Sway's mind into yourself!"_

          On one hand there was uncertain termination if the Whisperer caught her.  On the other was _certain_ termination if she disobeyed.  While Dreadmoon held the struggling Insecticon, M-03 jabbed one of her cables into her neck, and was immediately plunged into the swirling maelstrom that was Sway's mind:

          _There were thoughts here; alien patterns flashing as quick as reflections on water, light and scattered and so very different that there was no way no way at all to ever understand…_

          _There were other thoughts, and they felt heavy as earth compared to the fleeting alien patterns: I can't die yet!  I've still got to kick that stupid grasshopper's abdomen around the South Continent for getting me into this mess!.._

          It was easy enough to decide which voice to download, and M-03 did as quickly as possible, before the Whisperer sensed her.  As soon as the transfer completed, M-03 ripped herself away from the Insecticon with enough force to stumble back into her commander.  "Did you get her?"

          "Yes, Starscream."  M-03 had saved Sway's mind.  Literally.  A Transformer couldn't safely store another's mind within themselves, but M-03 was a Deceptitraan computer, and there was more than enough disk space.  Now, if the Whisperer could be flushed out somehow, Sway could be returned to her body.  Or a new body could be made.

          And just because it worked didn't mean that M-03 liked to take that kind of risk.  Not that Starscream cared.  He tore off the dangling part of his wing and glowered at the general assembly.  "Right, then, was anyone else hit by the energy of that explosion?"

          "As if anyone was watching!" shouted Shrillcry.

          There was a gasp from Razorshift, crouched on the floor and trembling..  "Great Cybertron, _I_ was…  No… no, I shifted," he said.  "I shifted.  It went right through me, but I _felt_ it…  She was right.  I wasn't prepared…  I wasn't prepared for anything like this…"

          "Relax, soldier," snapped Starscream.  First Shatterwing, now Sway, maybe others.  The generator was destroyed; their supplies would hold for a while, but not indefinitely.  They had one advantage over Skyvortex's crew – they knew what they were fighting.  And there was a relatively simple way to learn if anyone else had been possessed.  "On your feet, Decepticons," he ordered sharply.  "Let's see if anyone else has electrical burns on their shell."

          The others quickly obeyed… except for one.  The Whisperers might have got her, but they made one severe error: Gadget was tiny, and while her mind was theirs, her body's systems had been fused by the power influx.  Crowbar immediately knelt by the ruin of his assistant.  Starscream thought to stop him, but reconsidered; no matter what looked out from behind Gadget's eyes, it would be trapped within that broken form.

          Gadget would have to be destroyed – and Shatterwing as well, whenever they found him – for the safety of the others.  Starscream set his jaw; they were already dead, destroyed by the Whisperers.  Terminating the bodies would merely be vengeance…

          Without looking up from his assistant, Crowbar asked, "Could you do the same thing for Gadget?  Transferring her mind so we can save her?"

          M-03 knelt down, cautiously touched a tendril to the tiny Decepticon, and immediately recoiled.  "No.  The Whisperer had already begun to bind."

          "What the Whisperers don't realise is that they don't just take the bodies of their victims, they also merge with their minds," said Starscream.  "That's why Skyvortex's crew seemed insane rather than possessed; they were themselves, but they were something else, too."

          "Then she's still in there somewhere…"

          "She isn't," said Dreadmoon quietly, still holding Sway's possessed shell.  "There'd be no way to separate the two personalities.  If she's still Gadget at all, she's insane.  She's trapped in a nightmare."

          Crowbar glared at him.  "Shatterwing seemed sane enough."

          There was a short, bitter laugh from Razorshift.  "Shatterwing was suicidal.  His mind would have folded so completely that only the Whisperer would be left.  They're kind of dumb, don't you think?  You'd think they'd have realised that their mental patterns are completely incompatible with ours; if they possess one of us, chances are they go insane, too."

          "They're dangerous.  No one ever said they were smart," Starscream reminded him.

          The dragonfly twisted in Dreadmoon's grasp, but her ( its? ) efforts were futile.  It buzzed angrily, perhaps trying to speak, perhaps not even aware of what it was doing.  Starscream looked down at it.  "Someone cut her vocal circuits, just in case the Whisperer figures out how to use them.  Then toss her in the brig until we think of something better to do with her.  We've got to find Shatterwing, we've got to come up with a defence against the Whisperers, and I don't care how it happens."  He turned on his heel and stalked out.

          Razorshift phased, but before the dragonfly could react, he slashed a shadow-hand through it, shorting its circuits.  As it folded, Razorshift solidified, took it from the monitor and headed for the door, tossing in a 'come here' nod to Shrillcry.  They left.

          Dreadmoon shot a nervous glance between Crowbar and the door, looking relieved when the black Decepticon waved him away.  A moment later, M-03 left as well.

          After a few minutes, without looking up, Crowbar asked, "You're still here?"

          "I didn't think you should be left alone," said Vapourtrail.  The shuttle crouched down by him, where he was cradling what was left of Gadget.

          "I can't kill her."

          "She's already dead."

          He considered glaring at her, or yelling, or even lashing out, but what good would it do?  "I can't do it.  You were sparked; why can't you understand?  Who built you?"

          "His name was Lightray.  It doesn't matter."

          This time, Crowbar looked up.  "Why not?"

          Vapourtrail shrugged.  "Why should it?  I was built only to be a scientist, given tools and a form useful to that purpose.  Certainly I'm grateful that he created me, but we parted ways less than a week after I awakened."

          "No bond at all?" asked Crowbar.  The scientist shook her head, and he sighed.  "You can't understand, then.  I didn't just create a tech, I created a partner."  He looked back down at his creation, his assistant, his child.  "Go.  The others need your skill."

          "But you…"

          "I have to do this on my own."  Vapourtrail nodded and walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

          He couldn't kill her.

          _She's already dead.  It's better if she is dead, because anything left of her mind would be insane.  If she's alive, she's trapped in a nightmare and there's no way out.  There's nothing you can do._

          Of course, Crowbar intended to try.

          _She's trapped in a nightmare and there's no way out._

          There _was_ one way.

          But not yet.

* * *

          Shrillcry finished her alterations, carefully stepped back to the cell door, and closed it.  When she turned to leave the brig, she jumped.  "Razorshift!  You're still here?"

          The black Seeker nodded.  "You needed a guard, in case she came to again."

          "Thanks."

          "She's a good warrior.  I hope we get her back."

          The mantis shot a quick look over her shoulder as she walked down the hall.  "No hard feelings that she kicked your afterburner the first week we got here?"

          Razorshift laughed shortly.  "Not anymore.  Not now.  We're all in this together.  Besides," – and this time the smile wasn't forced – "she cheated."

          "You used your abilities, she used hers.  Seemed fair to me."  Shrillcry had carefully removed Sway's power rectifier chip; if the Whisperer figured out how to use Sway's sonic powers, it could rattle the bars off the cell.

          The tone was teasing, so Razorshift answered in kind.  "I'd have beat her if we'd called a 'no powers' battle instead of letting her hum at me."  Then, darkening again.  "I _am_ concerned about her, though.  One of those alien things ripped through me while I was phased, and I can _still_ feel it, like every molecule in my body is greasy.  She was actually sharing her _body_ with it…"

          "M-03 got her out in time," said Shrillcry fervently, because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate.

          "Still…"

          The intraship communications system chose that moment to activate, blaring forth with Starscream's voice: "Shrillcry, Razorshift, report to the lab."

* * *

          The base's computer lab wasn't an ideal place to hold a meeting.  Starscream, Dreadmoon, and M-03 had already swiped the only chairs in the room, running on a 'first come, first serve' basis.  Vapourtrail was leaning against a console.  Crowbar was conspicuously absent from the meeting, but no one mentioned it.  Razorshift stood loosely at attention.  Shrillcry perched on the table and queried, "What's up?"

          "We have an idea on how to create a shield against the Whisperers," said Starscream, gesturing to those already present.  "We know what they want is physical bodies; that's why Razorshift wasn't possessed when the generator exploded – they can only bind to normal matter."  It was also why the ghost-like Mourningstar could deal with them, but no need to spread _that_ little story around…

          He looked over at the black Seeker.  "The idea is simply this: To convert your power rectifier chip into a type of field-generator.  Not to phase us all, but merely to convince the Whisperers that whatever is in the field's range is of no use to them."

          Shrillcry nodded.  "I'll get right on it.  Raze?.."

          The air warrior shrugged.  "I don't like to lose my powers, but I'd rather get back to Cybertron alive and get a new PR chip."

          "I should go as well," added M-03.  "I can help with the creation of the device, and I will certainly need to be there for its testing on Sway."

          There was a slightly embarrassed noise from Vapourtrail.  "Erm, why are we doing this?  Even though the ship can't fly any more, we can still get back to Cybertron ourselves.  Why don't we just leave?"

          "It's safer for me here than on Cybertron," said M-03.

          "The flight through the storm to get orbital could be more dangerous than staying here," added Dreadmoon.

          "I want Sway back," piped Shrillcry.

          "I want the Whisperers to pay for destroying our people," growled Razorshift.

          "Decepticons never surrender," snapped Starscream.  Damned if _he_ was going to let a bunch of disembodied aliens allow Megatron to win this one.  "Vapourtrail, see if you can come up with some type of… I don't know, a mini-lightning rod with some sort of cage attachment.  See if we can trap the Whisperers.  Razorshift, come up to the control room whenever Shrillcry is done with you.  We need a way to find Shatterwing."  With their assignments, the Decepticons split up.

* * *

          He wasn't entirely certain why they were looking for Shatterwing.  The possessed Seeker was dangerous, certainly, but by now he would also be running low on power.  The only place to refuel would be the base itself, and if he returned, the others would destroy him.  Since he was out and running around, there was a minimum amount of damage he could cause, even before his fuel ran out.  Besides, chasing him was risky.

          Starscream, Dreadmoon, and Razorshift flew low, skimming the trees.  At that altitude and the fact that they kept moving cut the risk of lightning strike to acceptable levels.  Still, Razorshift was feeling somewhat nervous without his powers.  He probably shouldn't have come along, but Shatterwing was his… he considered the word 'friend' and quickly rejected it.  They'd been in the same flight back on Cybertron, but Shatterwing had never been close to any of the others.

          "You've been quiet."

          Were he in robot-mode, Razorshift might have jumped at Starscream's sudden intrusion on his thoughts.  As it was, the black pyramid-jet simply switched on his radio.  "Buzz off.  I used to be Shatterwing's commanding officer.  I don't particularly like hunting one of my own people."

          "Oh, and _I_ do?"

          "It was _your_ idea."

          "That isn't what he meant."

          "Shut up, Dreadmoon."  Razorshift switched off his radio to sulk.  The monitor's comment didn't help.  Of _course_ that loopy Starscream wouldn't think twice about hunting one of _Razorshift's_ people… but Shatterwing belonged to _him_ now.  They all did, which wasn't a reassuring thought.  It wasn't as if Starscream's track record on this mission had been particularly stellar.

          His radio activated.  Starscream, again: "Look, we want to capture Shatterwing alive if possible.  The phase-shift device might be able to separate the Whisperer from him."

          "You want to use him as a test subject?"

          _"Of course!"_ shrieked Starscream.  "Otherwise he's dead anyway!  If he _must_ die, I want it to count for something, rather than just letting him de-energize!  Now either stop questioning me or _go back to base!_"

          In answer, Razorshift held formation.  Starscream was nuts, but he did have a point.  Besides, he still thought of Shatterwing as his responsibility.  "How are we supposed to find him, anyway?"

          "Your comm circuits open automatically when someone radios you," said Dreadmoon.  "The Whisperer either hasn't noticed or doesn't know how to turn them off.  Shatterwing's own radio is working as a tracer."

          "Hnh.  We gaining on him?"

          "I think so.  My instruments place him at about seven kilometres away.  Unfortunately, at least one of those kilometres is up."

          "We're not flying any higher and that's final," said Starscream.  "I refuse to lose any more people."

          Another few minutes brought them to Shatterwing's approximate location, minus a kilometre and a half straight up.  The purple Seeker couldn't be seen; the storm got in the way.  The three Decepticons shifted to robot-mode and landed to discuss strategy.  Razorshift made a face at the sky.  "If I had my power rectifier chip, I could just fly up and short him out."

          Starscream ignored him, though inwardly kicked himself.  He _should_ have thought of that before having Shrillcry remove it, but he wanted to start work on the phase-shield device.  It was a scientist's way of thinking, not a warrior's, and it worried him.  Still, there wasn't anything he could do about it now.  Turning to Dreadmoon he asked, "Have you still got the trace on Shatterwing?"

          "Yes."

          "Could we use it against him?"

          The monitor gave him a disbelieving look.  "How?  By shouting really loud and hoping we'll overload his circuits?"

          "Don't be difficult," directed Starscream.  "Could you use the radio link as a target-lock?"

          Dreadmoon nodded slowly.  "It should work.  I'll be able to hit him, but I'll have no way of knowing what _part_ of him I'll hit."

          "Shut down your comm-link so that I can set a trace on him," directed Starscream.  "I can knock him out of the sky with a null-ray, and the fall shouldn't harm him overmuch."

          Dreadmoon cut his own link, allowing his commander to take over.  Starscream mentally tied his radio trace to his weapon systems, and took aim at the sky.  He fired off three shots in rapid succession to be sure, then said, "He's hit; I lost the trace.  I should be able to extrapolate his position from the last known data, though."

          He shifted and took off, the others following him.  Ten minutes later, Shatterwing's damaged but still-functional form was found nearly half a kilometre away from the estimated crash site.  The Seeker was loaded into Dreadmoon, and the Decepticons returned to base.

* * *

          It could see him, he knew, with its strange senses that weren't sight.

          In another way, Mourningstar could see the Whisperer.  The Hunter had no eyes and therefore couldn't see, but he could still sense energy patterns.  The Insecticon's body manifested in _one_ way, and the Whisperer within registered in _another_.  He knew where the walls of the ship were because of the power that flowed through them.  He could perceive trees and other living things in much the same way.  Even the bluffs that the base perched on was visible because of the microscopic life there.  Only if it was dead, de-energized, and decontaminated would something be invisible to Mourningstar.

          Whisperers were hard to look at, but it was even more difficult to look away.  He had implied to Starscream that he had a bargain with the aliens, which was a lie.  He never reached an understanding with the Whisperers because there was no way _to_ understand them.  It might have been because they were no more intelligent than animals, but Mourningstar didn't think so.  The Whisperers were simply too alien to comprehend.

          They didn't understand him, either.  They knew he was there and seemed to react to his presence, but they reacted in such a way that he was never sure.  It was all very confusing.

          He helped them – at least, he assumed he was helping them.  He _did_ show them that they could infect the station through the lightning rod.  Mourningstar did this because, despite his Hunter function, he was possessed of a wide streak of scientific curiousity.  Once Starscream's pet monitor mentioned the idea, Mourningstar just _had_ to test it.  That, and it amused him.

          He knew they wanted physical bodies.  He just didn't know why.  It wasn't like they knew how to use them.  The Insecticon's body had barely moved since it was tossed in the cell.  They had done well with the one Seeker, however… perhaps his mind had collapsed enough to give the Whisperer complete control, while still retaining automatic functions.  Or perhaps, since he was the first one taken, the Whisperer had time to adapt to a physical body.

          Mourningstar felt the energy currents shift, signalling the appearance of others in the room.  Yes, _here_ was the nimble-minded Insecticon engineer, and _here_ was the changeling Deceptitraan, and _here_, ah, yes, _here_ was Starscream.  He briefly considered slipping back into the Seeker's mind, but decided against it.  He didn't want to tip his hand yet; it was more fun to let Starscream wonder if he still existed.

          The Deceptitraan carried a device of some sort, and curious, Mourningstar, in his way, drifted closer.  There was power here…

          The power lanced out, straight through his non-corporeal form, and Mourningstar fled.  Not because the device affected him at all; something happened behind him.

          The Whisperer screamed.

          At least, whatever it was doing manifested as a scream to Mourningstar.  The waves it gave off were excruciating, tearing through him like shrapnel and distorting his own pattern.  He had to get away…

* * *

          "Did it work?"

          Memory, crouched in the cell by Sway's still form, looked up at her commander's voice.  "I think so.  I don't sense the Whisperer."

          The Seeker nodded.  "Take her to the repair bay and give her a full-spectrum energy scan, just to make sure.  If it's truly gone, see if you can get Sway back."  It was a victory, at least.  The device hadn't worked on Shatterwing; his mind had almost completely collapsed in on itself, leaving only the alien.  Razorshift had looked away while Starscream had performed the necessary task of pulling the purple Seeker's fuel lines.

          "Can I..?"

          Starscream looked over at Shrillcry.  There wasn't anything else for the mantis to do at the moment; besides, she would fret until her friend was safe.  "Yes.  I'll take the shield device to Crowbar.  It might help Gadget."

* * *

          When Starscream walked into Crowbar's lab, the mechanic was nowhere in evidence, so he decided to poke around a bit.  The place was an absolute mess; tools, materials, and half-finished machines of ambiguous purposes filled every available surface.  The worktable was clean, but that was only because someone had merely swept all the junk to the side with his arm.  And, of course, there was Gadget.

          Crowbar hadn't repaired her, not entirely.  It wasn't as if she could feel pain, and with all her relays fused, she couldn't move to cause herself any more damage.  The tiny orange Decepticon was lying on a diagnostic table ( one that, to Starscream's satisfaction, was attached to its own generator rather than the base's power supply; the Whisperer couldn't transfer to the ship ), probably borrowed from the repair bay.   Several of the displays were lit, but it was the one that showed brainwave readouts that caught Starscream's attention: It showed a curving red line, but there were breaks in it.  And there was a white line, or a fragmented line?…  A pattern?..  The readout was hard to look at…

          "Starscream?"

          Starscream jumped slightly, pulled from the quasi-hypnotic display.  "Crowbar.  I've brought the phase-shield generator.  It exorcised the Whisperer from Sway, but didn't work for Shatterwing and it might not work for Gadget."  The mechanic hadn't been at the meeting, but Vapourtrail had left him a report so he knew what was going on.

          The black Decepticon nodded.  "I have to try."

          The Seeker nodded, lifting the device to work the controls.  The field flashed out – the brainwave readout display went wild for a second, then settled itself back to where it had been.  Starscream switched off the device, tried it again, then set it down.  "It won't work.  It's bound itself to her and won't be tricked by the field."

          "I… understand."

          Starscream nodded and left.  Slowly, Crowbar walked over to the diagnostic table and began disconnecting the various input wires.  With a sigh, he looked down at his assistant.  There was nothing to say, nothing that _could_ be said.  How could he say, 'Good-bye, I have to kill you,' to his child?

          "You were my greatest creation," Crowbar told her quietly, finally, praying that something, _something_ behind her optics understood, and disconnected her fuel line.

* * *

          Sway regained consciousness, but didn't activate her optics yet.

          She was lying on a table, she felt, and someone was holding her hand.  Her right one.  She thought: _I'm back on Coleop.  I'm back in the Hive with Kickback hovering nearby, and when I open my eyes, he'll say…_

          "Sway?  Sway, come on, tell me someone's home!"

          "Shrill?"  _So much for clichés…  His type of line, though,_ Sway thought, allowing sight to return and peer up into Shrillcry's worried face.

          The mantis squeezed her hand, then looked across her at the other in the room.  "Is she?.."

          "It's her and no other," replied Memory.

          "Yes!" whooped Shrillcry, punching the air.  "Memory, you're a miracle worker!"

          "'Memory'?" asked Sway.  "Not, hmm, 'M-03'?"

          The computer engineer nodded.  "Due to circumstances, I have been officially accepted as a member of the crew.  If I am to be treated as a Decepticon, I felt I should have a Decepticon name."

          Sway shrugged.  Shrillcry grinned: "Works for me.  Come on, Sway; we'd better report to the Great Screaming One that you've returned to the land of the living."  With a cheery wave, the Insecticons left.

          Memory absently began to tidy up the work area.  Leave it to the fringe-dwelling Insecticons to welcome a changeling with open arms.  Vapourtrail was fairly accepting as well; all the others had existed during the era that Deceptitraan computers were in use and saw her more as a clever toy than a person.  It wasn't fair; she might have been nothing more than a fancy machine, but that was all they were, too.  She knew enough about Decepticon mentality that they'd accept her eventually, once she'd proven her worth to their cause.  They just took time to get past the xenophobia inherent in all races that think themselves superior.

* * *

          "I hate this."

          Dreadmoon waited, watching Starscream in the glow of the smelter.  In theory, melting down the shells of the fallen ( or, in Lightseeker's case, what was _left_ of her body ) would have been the job of one of the techs, but neither Crowbar nor Shrillcry – understandably – wanted to do it.  So, as commander, Starscream had taken on the task himself.

          "I _hate_ this," he repeated, with emphasis.  "They were _my_ people, and I failed them.  And _he's_ probably laughing at me from Earth, or Cybertron, or wherever he's chosen to be at the moment.  'Good work, Starscream.  You've set a new record – killing three of your people and disembodying a fourth, all within a month, and it's not even a _military_ mission'," growled Starscream in a reasonable parody of Megatron's voice.

          The monitor stood back in the shadows; from Starscream's perspective, he was a collection of blue highlights with glowing, red eyes.  "We _did_ get Sway back.  And you couldn't predict what would happen."

          Starscream kicked the smelter, not hard enough to cause a dent.  "I _should_ have been able to!  I should have done a full investigation of Skyvortex's base!  I should have wrung Memory's stupid neck until she confessed everything she knew!  I should have taken Skyvortex's logs more seriously and had Lightseeker on constant look-out!  I should have paid attention to my own blasted senses!"  Starscream's voice rose steadily until it was a shout.

          Abruptly, he stopped.  "And I should have listened to you."

          "I only make suggestions, Commander."

          "Stop that.  I don't need a subordinate right now," snapped Starscream.  "I need an equal with an unbiased opinion.  You told me to slow down, but I didn't and I missed things.  You went through the effort of profiling the crew and I ignored it, instead of keeping a closer watch on Shatterwing."  He leaned on the edge of the smelter, bathing his face in the hot, golden light.  "He was right.  I can't handle a command position."

          "You expected a military assignment.  You haven't been a scientist for millions of years."

          "That's no excuse.  I haven't _forgotten_ anything."  Starscream paused, and continued quietly, "I _tried_ to forget, but I just pushed it aside.  I _should_ have known better, but I was too busy thinking of ways to get back at Megatron for putting me on this lousy assignment!  Even when he's _not_ around, he's running my life!"

          Dreadmoon shook his head.  "You're here, he's not.  This is your project, not his.  And there's still work to do."

          The Seeker sighed.  "Isn't there always?  At least we'll be able to keep busy rather than just brooding over things.  Vapourtrail's little traps are our next priority."

* * *

          "It's not fair."  The surviving Insecticons sat at the mouth of the hangar, robot-mode, dangling their feet off the edge, letting the rain blow over them.

          "Mm, life isn't fair."

          Shrillcry stood up suddenly, turning on the dragonfly.  "Shut up!  _Shut up!_  I've _had_ it with your moodiness!  So Kickback panicked and sent you away on the first assignment that came up.  Get over it!  Lightseeker is _dead_, terminated, gone!  _We_ may one day return to Coleop, but _she never will!_"

          Silence hung between the two for several minutes.  Then, "Shrillcry?  Mm, I'm sorry, Shrill.  I'm, hmm, on edge."

          "I'm scared, too.  At least we know what we're up against."

          "But we, hmm, _can't fight it!_" shouted Sway, standing.  "We've got a defence, but it's not the same thing!  I need an enemy I can _fight_!  That, hmm, _thing_, it… it…  If Memory hadn't…"

          Shrillcry laid a hand on the taller Insecticon's shoulder.  "I'm sorry I yelled at you.  Come on; I've got a small stash of high-grade copper/carbon alloy rods back in my quarters.  I swiped them back when Crow was testing the refinery, and if he ever finds out I took them, I'm in for trouble."

          The dragonfly managed a smile.  "You want help, hmm, getting rid of the evidence?"  It was a stereotype that Insecticons could always be distracted with food.  It was true, but it was still a stereotype.  Sway quietly followed her friend back into the base.

          _To be continued…_


	6. To Reign Is Worth Ambition

**To Reign Is Worth Ambition**

_… Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice,  
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:.._

* * *

          "It's quiet.  Things have stabilised.  Nothing bad has happened for days.  Work is going reasonably smoothly."  Starscream sighed.  "There's going to be another crisis.  I just _know_ it."

          Between the phase-shield and Vapourtrail's traps ( basically a lightning rod wire that drew the lightning to itself and channelled it into a little box, used during flight outside the shield ), the threat of the Whisperers was diminished to almost nil.  And since within the shield the lightning was simply lightning, an improved energy collector had been set up.  It was almost embarrassing how much power they had the potential to collect; there was even a risk of overload, something that Starscream was unused to and found a pleasant change from the careful rationing he had been stuck with on Earth.

          They were going to start production of energon cubes as soon as they got the space-bridge working; if they started making them now, they would run out of places to store them.  Unfortunately, since their communication system with Cybertron wasn't working, the space-bridge wouldn't be, either.  However, no one was in a real hurry to get the equipment fixed.  It was the first break the Stormworld crew had in weeks.

          Starscream didn't trust inactivity, though.  It usually meant that someone, somewhere, was coming up with a way to make him miserable.

          Thus, Starscream wasn't entirely surprised when Vapourtrail eventually said, "You know, the one thing I don't understand is why the satellite cut out.  I mean, we'd been assuming that the Whisperers got into it and destroyed it, but that's not possible if they have to ride lightning to get into machinery.  The satellite can't be _reached_ by lightning."

          "Maybe Shatterwing broke it," said Dreadmoon.  "Or the aliens rode the radio waves."

          Starscream shook his head.  "If they rode radio signals, they would have taken all of us before we even knew they existed."  Transformer mouths moved, but it wasn't necessary; their vocalisers generated the sounds, not the movement of air through their throats and mouths.  And even if that wasn't enough, they could have got in through their longer-range communication systems.  Not possible.  "And we would have noticed Shatterwing's absence if he was gone long enough to go to the satellite and back."

          "And I actually went orbital and _checked_ the satellite," added Vapourtrail.  "There's nothing wrong with it in either hardware or software.  And even if there _was_ something wrong with it, it isn't just the satellite – my radio couldn't reach Cybertron or Earth, either."

          Dreadmoon leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly to activate the computer, and called up Skyvortex's station logs.  "This is unusual.  Look at the dates."

          "Their communications cut off at almost the same time ours did, at the same point of the year," said Vapourtrail, curious.  "There's a two day difference, but it's too close to be a coincidence.  And they didn't have a satellite like we did; they had to send someone orbital to make reports."

          The Seeker leaned back, steepling his fingers under his nose.  "It could be anything.  This is such a strange planet.  Stellar radiation, maybe."

          "Maybe," said Dreadmoon, calling up a diagram of the solar system.  "We don't know much about the star A-JX-522, except what Skyvortex collected and the readings we took on our way in."

          Starscream sat up suddenly.  "Dreadmoon, zoom out that image… no, farther.  Farther.  Get me a map of the entire M31 galaxy.  There."  Starscream stood, tracing a line between Cybertron's original position and the Stormworld with his finger.  "Now, extrapolate the position of the Earth…  Oh, my…"

          "What is it?"

          "I didn't think this was possible," murmured Starscream, collapsing back into his chair.  "The orbit of Stormworld takes it _inside_ the Corridor."

* * *

          They had taken the subspace Corridor to reach Stormworld, but they hadn't realised just how close they were to the phenomenon.

          Unfortunately, Transformer communications equipment also worked with subspace technology, which didn't take to being used in the Corridor.  Ordinary radio worked well enough, but it would take thousands of years for an ordinary radio transmission to reach Cybertron.

          At least there was a relatively simple way around this problem.  Leaving Vapourtrail with the satellite, Starscream and Dreadmoon simply flew out of the Corridor to make their report.

          In truth, Dreadmoon flew out of the Corridor.  Starscream was just along for the ride.  Looking over the spacecraft's screens, he said, "There.  We're clear.  Call Shockwave."  After a few seconds, the instantly recognisable visage of Cybertron's Operations Commander appeared.  "Miss me?"  Starscream chuckled.  "Have _I_ got a report for your files…"

          "Do go away, Starscream," Shockwave directed, the slightest tremor to his lightly-accented voice.  "We're rather busy at the moment."

          It was then that Starscream looked past Shockwave and at his control room.  It was a mess.  Several panels had blown, and a menial in the background was spraying fire-retardant foam on a small blaze.  The walls were cracked, as if there had been an earthquake.  Which was impossible.  "What happened?  Did the Autobots..?"

          Shockwave shook his head.  "No attack this time; it was our own stupidity.  Number Five generator blew – it couldn't take the power influx after being in stasis-mode so long – which destroyed the Fifth Sector's energon storage facility, which destroyed most of Sinehex City.  We haven't even bothered with casualty lists.  And if that isn't bad enough for you, the blast knocked us into a decaying orbit.  We have perhaps ninety-six hours before things start melting up here."  He stopped, daring Starscream to have worse news.

          "Don't the planetary jets work?" asked Starscream.

          The purple monitor allowed himself a quick noise of disgust.  "You think we haven't tried, Starscream?  All the Sectors' power grids are connected; by the time we sealed off the Fifth Sector, we'd vented too much fuel to use the jets.  In fact, we're _still_ venting!" he shouted, as if that was the final straw.  If Starscream wasn't worried before, he was now; Shockwave _never_ shouted.

          "How much energon is needed to get the jets online?" asked Starscream quickly.  Shockwave listed off a rather large number.  "Does your space-bridge still work?"

          "Yes."  And the Autobots were going to be _very_ surprised at how many Decepticons suddenly showed up on Earth.

          Starscream nodded.  "We'll be there in six hours.  Starscream out."

* * *

          Skywarp was _not_ enjoying himself.

          He enjoyed being an air warrior.  He enjoyed telling Starscream when Starscream did something stupid.  That didn't mean he wanted to take Starscream's place.

          He was, at the moment, second in command.  Not to Megatron; Megatron had gone back to Cybertron to deal with the main crisis.  Skywarp was currently second to Soundwave – whom he didn't like – trying to keep track of the refugees from Cybertron that had come through Shockwave's space-bridge to Earth – which was not a fun job.  It wasn't going to be easy, either; after the Decepticons' minor reign of terror when they collected energy in earnest to stabilize Cybertron's orbit, the Autobots _really_ clamped down.

          They didn't even properly _outnumber_ the Autobots, really.  Of the one hundred and twenty-seven refugees who had come through the space-bridge, eighty-two were neutral.  Of the Decepticons, only sixteen were even vaguely military-related.  And then, they would need more energy than they could safely collect…  Hopefully, the numbers alone would keep the Autobots at their distance, at least until a proper solution could be thought of.

          Skywarp jumped slightly when Soundwave said, "Aircraft approaching," partly because he was already on edge, and partly because Soundwave had snuck up on him.  Probably on purpose, the nasty over-promoted receptionist…

          The black Seeker pushed such thoughts aside.  Much as he hated his current position, he had a job to do.  Skywarp shifted as he took to the air, summoning the others: "Thundercracker!  Thrust!  Ramjet!  Stalker!  Dirge!  We've got company in the sky; probably those snoopy Aerialbots.  Scramble!"

          As was his wont, Skywarp teleported to the sky above his targets… but instead of firing, radioed his strike-force: "Guys, hold your fire!  They're Decepticons!"

          An all-too familiar silver jet looped around to shadow Skywarp.  "I see Megatron gave you _my_ job."

          "No thanks to _you_, Screamer," retorted Skywarp.  "Thanks for recommending me, you jerk."

          "Oh, no, I made a recommendation, but it wasn't _you_."

          "Who, then?  Thundercracker?"

          "Nightbird."

          A slight pause.  "You _are_ vicious."

          Starscream banked to follow his people to the ground.  "I was in a bad mood at the time."

          "What else is new?"  The two Seekers landed.  "What're you up to this time?"

          "I," said Starscream, "am going to rub Megatron's nose in it."  He called Soundwave over, and waved at the two shuttles he arrived with.  "These are Dreadmoon and Vapourtrail.  Skywarp, some people to work unloading their cargoes into the space-bridge.  Soundwave, collect up anyone with a shuttle, spacecraft, or long-range jet mode…"

          Skywarp noticed for the first time exactly what the cargo was.  "Energon?"

          "… Tell them to follow my people back to the Stormworld for more of the same," finished Starscream, as if he hadn't been interrupted.  The Stormworld space-bridge was non-functional due to subspace interference, but the Earth one still worked, and because of the Corridor, the flight between Stormworld and Earth took less than six hours.  It was roundabout, but it stood a chance of succeeding.

          Soundwave paused for the briefest moment, quickly summing up Starscream's intentions.  "You're insane."

          "Indulge a lunatic," said Starscream.  "Because the lunatic outranks you."  Soundwave shrugged and set to work.

* * *

          It was a bit less than six hours after Starscream said he'd arrive, but it was close enough that Shockwave was expecting him.  He wasn't expecting him to show up sitting on a skid piled with energon.  The Seeker hopped down.  "Get some menials to unload that.  In about twelve hours, there's going to be a _lot_ more of it."

          "Starscream…"

          "And if there's anyone left here who can shift to a spacecraft, send him to Earth.  Soundwave and Skywarp can fill him in."

          "Starscream," said Shockwave evenly, patiently, "what the blazes is going on?"

          The Seeker waved a hand at the space-bridge.  "I'm delivering energon.  A lot of it.  Hopefully enough to power the planetary jets and get Cybertron back where it belongs."  Shockwave set about directing his menials to the task.

_          "STARSCREAM!"_

          He turned to the source of the shout with a smile.  "Megatron.  Things falling apart as usual?"

          "If you call an entire Sector exploding 'usual'," Megatron growled.  "What are you doing here?"

          "Remember that planet that was supposed to kill me?.."

* * *

          Megatron caught up to Starscream outside of Shockwave's tower, talking to Dreadmoon and one of his Insecticons.  "Starscream."

          "Megatron."  He waved his people away and waited.

          While it was all well and good that Stormworld's vast resources were now the property of the Decepticon Empire, Megatron was not looking forward to dealing with a very smug Starscream.  "You did well," he finally admitted.  Six hours ago, Cybertron's planetary jets activated, starting the world's journey back to its proper orbit, all thanks to a ridiculously large shipment of energon from Stormworld.  Those that evacuated were on their way back, and no one really wanted to think about the amount of repairs that awaited them.

          The tone was grudging, but Starscream knew what even a minor compliment cost his commander, and decided to accept it gracefully for a change.  "Thank you."

          Silence fell again as each tried to think of something else to say:

          _You were right.  I had no idea how to handle a command position.  But I'm learning.  I think I finally understand you, Megatron.  Sometimes there's no choice, and all you can do is try to survive to fight another day._

          _I'm impressed; you surpassed all my expectations of you, Starscream.  I never intended to risk you as I did, but you caught me at a bad time, and I answered your challenge without thinking.  But you did it.  Congratulations._

          _I'm sorry._  But neither could say it.

          "All right, you've had your fun," said Megatron gruffly.  "We'll be returning to Earth in two days.  Skywarp at least will be happy to see you again; he's tired of filling in for you."

          "Return?" Starscream huffed.  "You said that if I conquered the planet, it was mine.  Besides, I'm not finished; it isn't truly under control, and we haven't found a way to properly defeat the Whisperers.  Also, since Stormworld's orbit takes it into the Corridor itself, it will be a perfect place to study it from."

          "Starscream…" began Megatron warningly.

          The Seeker drew himself up archly.  "You can't back out of the challenge now that I've won.  Anyway, I'm the only one qualified to rule the Stormworld; I know the dangers of the planet, can teach storm-flying, and have the scientific training required to tame the planet."  He paused and smiled.  "Is Skywarp _really_ that bad an Air Commander?"

          "Almost."  Actually, Skywarp was pretty good; not as bright as Starscream, but he made up for it in cunning.  All that, and he was loyal, too.  He just didn't want the responsibility.

          That seemed to be that, then.  Soundwave would take the news that he was suddenly second-in-command of the Decepticon army with his usual calm, but Skywarp might protest his own sudden promotion to third.  He would have to deal with it.  "As you were, then."  Megatron turned on his heel and left.  Neither of them were good at good-byes.

          Behind him, Starscream chuckled, but for once there was no malice to it.

* * *

          "A-_hem_."

          The guard looked around, then down as something kicked him in the shin.  "Look awake, soldier," snapped Kickback.  "Official Coleop Ambassador-Type Person coming through."  He didn't actually have to kick the guard, but he had to do _something_.  He was anxious, his nerves told him the choice was either fight or flee, and Kickback was a warrior.

          The Cybertron-Coleop space-bridge was located in the Second Sector, and all the excitement was probably happening in the First, so Kickback headed to Shockwave's tower.  All he wanted was information, but it didn't occur to him to radio for it.  He was too worked-up for that.

          Near Shockwave's watchtower, he caught sight of ex-Monitor Dreadmoon doing inventory on a compad, and dropped down next to him.  Shifting back to robot-mode, he snapped, "We of Coleop only received the preliminary reports.  We know one of our people was killed.  Who was it?"  He didn't intend to be so harsh, but if he didn't ask it in a rush, he would never have managed it.

          To the Decepticon's credit, Dreadmoon actually sounded sincerely regretful when he said, "The scientist.  Lightseeker.  She could detect the Corridor aliens, and they destroyed her for it."  He waved a hand at the watchtower.  "One of the others is compiling the report for you.  I would have done it already, but she insisted."

          "What?  _Who?_"

          "I've, hmm, finished, Dreadmoon.  You promised me a lift over to the Second… oh."  Sway stopped as she caught sight of Kickback.  "Hmm, never mind."

          There were several things he could say, but Kickback didn't intend to do so with Dreadmoon standing right there ( albeit ignoring them with his inventory work. )  Instead he started for a slightly sheltered area, motioning for the dragonfly to follow.

          She did.  Waving the report slightly she said, "I was going to use this as an excuse to visit.  Hmm, looks like I don't have to now."

          "Sway…"

          "I _was_ going to, hmm, wave it under your nose and try to make you feel guilty about it – I _was_ almost killed, you know…"

          "Listen, I…"

          "… Then _you_ have to show up _here_, shaking like a shiverweed,_ completely_ ruining my, hmm, plot for petty revenge…"

          Unable to get a word in edgewise, Kickback, master of fast-talk, grabbed her by the shoulders and blurted, "Sway, I've been an idiot."

          "Mm, no argument there."

          "Don't you start.  I've spent _quite_ long enough kicking _myself_, thank you very much."  He let her go and struck an ill-tempered pose.  "And I think I had every right to be nervous about keeping female company.  I _was_ right there when Shrapnel almost got eaten."

          "Hmm, you're going to have problems, Kickback," chuckled Sway.  "Most Insecticons _are_ female."

          "You know what I mean."  Insecticons were possessed of some insect-like instincts; the originals because their programming was damaged, and the coleop-born because they started as organic beings.  Certainly Coronapis tried to devour Shrapnel, but that was while she was insect, not Insecticon.  Still, it had taken the separation for Kickback to force his rebellious mind to realise that the phantom threat of getting his head bit off was much less than the fact that he missed his friend.  He ran a hand over the side of his helmet, a nervous gesture.  "If I'd known the project was going to be so dangerous, I would have…"

          "Kept me at, hmm, home?" asked Sway archly.

          Kickback returned the expression.  "On Coleop, at least.  I _could_ have sent Barrage, or Scattershot, or Ransack.  Don't think I lack qualified people."

          "And any of those would have done as well as me, hmm?"

          The grasshopper considered that.  "Well, no," he admitted eventually, but set his jaw.  "I'm still going to drag you back to the Hive by those pretty wings of yours if you don't come quietly."

          Sway danced back.  "Keep me cooped up so you, mm, don't have to worry about me?  Hmm, only on the condition that you never leave, either."

          "_What?_  Sway, much as I don't like it, I've got responsibilities now.  I can't just stay in the Hive so that you don't worry about me!"

          "What about me?" snapped Sway.  "Hrmm, you think I _like_ you getting into situations where you can get your, hmm, abdomen shot off, Kickback?  Which one of us lost a leg to a morphobot three months ago, hmm?"

          "I can take care of myself, Sway…"

          "So can I!"

          Both Insecticons folded their arms and turned away belligerently.  Several minutes had passed before one spoke.  "Sway?.."

          "Hmm?"  She turned.  Kickback was still facing away, but his hands hung loosely at his sides.

          Still without looking he said, "There's only one way, then.  We have to stick together.  Split up, we spend too much time worrying, which I'm _sure_ ruins our efficiency."

          "I'll watch your back if you'll watch mine?" asked Sway.  "Hmm, tempting."

          He turned and scowled.  "_Only_ that?"

          "Mm, you're cute when you're indignant."

* * *

          Dreadmoon looked up from his compad as Starscream landed beside him.  "How did it go?"

          "It went."

          The Seeker might be more open than he had been, but there were some things he still wouldn't share.  Still, Starscream seemed to be in a good mood, so things couldn't have gone too badly.  Good.  Dreadmoon tapped at the compad.  "Memory will have to hold the fort for a few days longer.  After the fiasco up here, the Stormworld project has suddenly become popular, and I need to organize things.  With more people, the base will have to be expanded – I need to ask Shrillcry about how best to do that, as Crowbar's requested a transfer – but at least we'll be able to get more work done, especially once the orbit takes us out of the Corridor… why are you shaking your head?"

          "Why do you keep saying 'I'?"

          "It's over.  You won your challenge."

          Starscream shook his head again with a smile.  "He asked me back.  I turned him down."

          The monitor's optics brightened for an instant; a blink of surprise.  "You'll be returning to the Stormworld?"

          "Of course."  Starscream spread his arms to the night sky, as if to claim it.  "It's _my_ blasted planet."

          **_The End._**


End file.
